Suddenly Blonde
by Shado Librarian
Summary: Luthor's plans for a new life in a new body went seriously awry. But what happens when Lois wakes up and she's suddenly blond.
1. Chapter 1

March 5, 2010

A sequel to **Game, Set, Match **

* * *

Lois lingered as long as she could in that half state between sleeping and waking. She was in a bed that smelled of detergent and bleach. It was a good smell, a comforting smell. Like when she was little and her mother was still okay and had put fresh sheets on the bed.

Other smells and sounds intruded, breaking into her comfortable half-dream. Disinfectant smell intermingled with the sound of beeps. She let her mind linger over the odd dream she had. Lex Luthor had been trying to convince her that they'd been lovers and he wanted them to disappear together. Then the dream morphed into something horrible – Luthor had a gun that could kill Superman and he'd used it to kill him. _Luthor had killed him. He had killed Clark_

The dream morphed again and she was trapped inside a glass canister watching Luthor as he gloated over his victims. She pounded on the canister - only the hands doing the pounding weren't hers. They were large – as large as Clark's, only… Clark was dead on the floor.

But it was only a dream, wasn't it?

She stretched before opening her eyes but her body felt heavy and a little ungainly but she wasn't in any pain. Slowly she opened her eyes and looked around. She was in a hospital bed, but she had no idea which hospital.

She sat up to get her bearings, looked down and had to stifle a gasp of astonishment. Her breasts were gone, replaced by a broad chiseled chest that matched the muscular arms sticking out of the hospital gown.

A horrible suspicion coalesced in her mind and she checked under the sheet and gown to confirm it – she was now male.

Lois cast her mind back to her dream. _Luthor had a gun that could kill Superman and he'd used it to kill him – no Luthor hadn't killed him, not just then. She tried to stop Luthor only he threw her aside. Then…_ Her thoughts shied away from what had to have come next. Luthor had turned his weapon on her for defying him. That or she had tried to shield Superman from Luthor's weapon. Either way, it seemed that Asabi's soul transfer trick had worked.

Lois Lane was alive, but in a different body.

She climbed out of the bed, teetering unsteadily on large feet as she made her way to the adjoining restroom. A look into the mirror confirmed it. She was not only male, but the body was that of the male that Mamba had created for Luthor himself – the genetically perfect Arian male model, blond, blue-eyed, perfect teeth, perfect body.

"The bastard did it," she murmured. Her voice sounded weird in her ears. It was far too low. An errant thought flitted through her mind. Had Mamba given his creation a good singing voice? Her own voice had been pretty good and she enjoyed singing. Had she lost that as well?

Then another thought crossed her mind. Mamba's other creation had been female. Had she survived? And if she had, whose soul had taken her? Clark or Lex?

She felt a chuckle rising into her throat. Lex would be horrified to be in the wrong body. It was odd – her memory was still patchy in some areas – but she clearly remembered Luthor's snide little comments concerning the 'fairer sex'. She suspected that Lex saw women as little more than sex toys and baby factories. He certainly would hate waking up as an 'innie'.

And Clark? Lois wasn't sure how Clark would react if he woke up in a woman's body. He was normally pretty level-headed but this was a seriously mind-blowing concept. And that didn't include Superman – how would Clark react to losing Superman on top of everything?

-o-o-o-

His first impression on waking up was that everything was muted. The sounds were softer and more distant and his sense of touch seemed almost gone – he didn't feel numb so much as he felt there was a barrier between himself and the world. He also felt weak, as weak as he did when exposed to kryptonite but without the pain. His sense of smell was muted – he should have been able to identify where he was just by the scents but all he could smell at the moment was detergent and bleach.

He opened his eyes. Even they weren't working quite right. He could see but again it was like he'd been exposed to kryptonite – his special vision was gone.

Clark took another moment to access the situation. His surroundings indicated he was in a hospital room but he had no idea how he had gotten there.

He remembered Luthor attacking him and kidnapping his mother. He remembered tracking Luthor to his lair. He remembered the searing pain when Luthor turned his disruptor on him. Then nothing, except…

He was sure what he remembered next was a dream. He had opened his eyes to find himself in a glass canister, looking down on his own brightly clad body. Lois was sprawled over Superman's body and it was obvious that they were both dead. He heard a scream and then gunfire. Luthor slumped to the floor, his dead eyes staring at Clark trapped in the canister.

It had to be a dream, right?

He started to climb out of the hospital bed. Depowered or not, he didn't want some overly curious doctor examining him and discovering that he wasn't human.

But his center of gravity was wrong and his body just didn't feel right. He looked down to see what was wrong and saw… _breasts?_

His hands and wrists were wrong – they were small and feminine with manicured nails. His feet and legs were wrong as well. They were shapely legs and feet but they belonged to a woman a little taller and heavier than Lois. He brushed absently at something on his shoulders and discovered his hair was past his shoulders. He held a lock of it in front of his face and stared at it – his new body was a blonde and from his first inspection, the collar and cuffs matched.

Clark had no idea how Luthor had managed it but he had no doubt that Luthor was at fault. He also knew that if he told anyone what had happened to him he'd end up in a padded cell.

Clark had no intention of landing in the psych ward and he knew he would never find out what happened to him from inside a hospital room.

He mulled over his dream, realizing it probably hadn't really been a dream at all. _Lois was dead. She'd been sprawled across his body, her chest blown away by that monstrous weapon. Luthor killed her. _

_Lois was dead._

-o-o-o-

Lois looked up as the door to her room opened and a familiar face showed itself – Bill Henderson, MPD. Another officer followed him in.

"My name is Henderson and this is Wilkerson and we're with the Metropolis police. If you don't mind, Mister Alexander, we'd to ask you a few questions about what happened to you and what you may have seen."

_Mister Alexander? _Lois was so caught up in the revelation of her body's name that she almost missed the first question.

"Can you tell us why you and your wife were sealed inside bullet-proof air-tight glass tubes in Lex Luthor's hideout?" Henderson asked.

"I honestly have no idea," Lois said. "In fact, I'm a little fuzzy on a lot of things."

Henderson grimaced. "The doctors found some interesting drugs in your system. The lab's still trying to identify some of them. But you have no idea what Luthor was planning?"

"Only that he claimed he had a way to kill Superman, and he had some idea that he'd get away scot free," Lois said. "Something about 'soul transference'."

"Do you know how he planned to kill Superman?" Henderson asked.

"Some sort of gun. A 'disruptor' I think he called it. I have a feeling it was something like a military prototype," Lois said. "I'm pretty sure that's what he used to kill Superman and Lois Lane."

Henderson raised one eyebrow and Lois realized she had mentioned something that she shouldn't have known – the real name of Luthor's female companion.

"I recognized her," Lois explained quickly. "From her photograph. I guess her fiancé must be pretty upset."

Henderson simply nodded.

Lois decided to ask some questions of her own. "You, um, found our ID and clothes and everything?"

"All packed up like you were planning a trip," Wilkerson said. "Where were you planning on going?"

"We had no plans to go anywhere, at least not that I remember."

"You weren't planning on flying to Paris in the morning?" Henderson asked.

Lois shook her head.

"How long had you known Lex Luthor?" Wilkerson asked.

"As far as I remember, I didn't know him at all," Lois answered.

"And you have no idea why he had you and your wife in those tubes?" Henderson insisted.

"No idea at all," Lois lied.

"Do you remember your wife's name?" Henderson asked.

Lois's mind spun. Was Henderson suspicious of her, or just naturally cautious? And what name would Luthor have put on her passport?

"Louisa," Lois said. Close enough to 'Lois' for her to remember, different enough not to raise the suspicions of people who knew Lois Lane.

Henderson seemed almost satisfied. "The doctors want to keep the two of you here overnight for observation. We'll want to talk to you again when your head's clearer."

A woman stuck her head in. Lois recognized her – Betty Reed, an MPD detective.

"Mrs. Alexander has flown the coop," Reed announced.

"I ordered a guard on her," Henderson growled.

Reed shrugged. "We're searching the building, but we think she got some clothes from the nurses' lockers and maybe even some cash. But no credit cards are missing."

"Mister Alexander, why would your wife run away?" Henderson asked.

"She has a really serious aversion to doctors," Lois suggested only half joking.

Henderson was not amused. "And where would she run to?"

"I have no idea," she answered, honestly this time.

-o-o-o-

Clark was ashamed of what he'd had to do – breaking into the nurses' locker room, stealing a set of bright colored scrubs and a pair of shoes that didn't quite fit. Someone had been foolish enough to leave a purse with money in it and he made a mental note of the name so he could pay her back once this nightmare was over.

And it _was_ a nightmare.

He just needed to get somewhere safe and quiet, preferably with an Internet connection, where he could hunker down and figure this out. Without giving it much thought he gave the cabbie the address to his apartment.

As the cab wended its way through the busy streets, he sat back and let himself wonder about the body he was in. Who was she? Did she have people who were looking for her, who loved her? Did she have a husband, a lover? He had no answers, yet.

But he wasn't an award winning investigative reporter for nothing. He _would_ figure it out.

The cab stopped in front of his building. He paid the cabbie, trying to ignore the leering look the man gave him. Was this something Lois went through? Guys she didn't know undressing her with their eyes? _Lois…_

He hurried up the stairs to his apartment. At the door he realized he didn't have his keys and the spare wasn't beneath the plant in the corner.

Maybe, hopefully, his parents were inside. Without super-hearing he couldn't tell. Then it hit him – Superman was dead. His parents must be devastated.

Steeling himself, he knocked on the door. After a moment the door opened and he found himself face to face with… _Lois_?

She looked awful – eyes red with crying, skin pale and splotchy – a woman deep in grief. "Lois?" she whispered to him, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside.

His dad was standing in the living room. "Lola, who is it?"

"It's Lois!" the dark-haired woman said. Lois was dead, so this had to be the Lois clone Luthor had made. The one who actually married Clark Kent only days before.

"Honey, Lois is dead," Jonathan said gently.

The clone shook her head. "Lex had this crazy plan about using A-type clones to transplant his soul or brain or something," she said. "She's…" the clone pointed to Clark, "one of the A-type clones. _She_ doesn't need to eat frogs."

"She may be right," Martha said, coming out of the bedroom to join Jonathan. She looked worn out. "That looks like a girl the police were trying to rescue from the canister before the air ran out," she added.

Clark followed 'Lola' down the steps. He wanted to grab his mom and give her a hug but he didn't dare. His dad was standing behind his mom, his hands on her shoulders.

"What's your name?" Martha asked gently. "And why did you come here?"

"I'm not Lois," Clark said, realizing that coming here there was a bad idea. "I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry to have intruded on your grief." He turned to head for the door but found Jonathan's hand on his arm.

"What makes you think we're grieving?" The man's eyes were narrowed suspiciously. "Who are you?"

Clark's shoulders sagged. They would never believe him. He didn't believe it himself.

"I'm not Lois," he repeated.

"Did Lex wake you up and forget to give you a soul?" 'Lola' asked.

"I don't think so," Clark said. "I mean, I don't think he's the one who woke me up. And as for the rest, I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

Martha chuckled. "You have no idea what I would or wouldn't believe." She gestured for Clark to sit down. "Lola, why don't you start another pot of coffee?"

Lola pouted prettily. "You trust me to do that after I nearly burnt up the last pot?"

"Just remember to add the water and close the lid _before_ you turn on the coffee maker," Jonathan told her with a tired smile.

Lola trudged into the kitchen.

Martha turned back to Clark. "Who are you?"

"I'm not sure," Clark admitted. "But I seem to have the memories of Clark Jerome Kent."

Martha actually paled.

"That's a pretty sick joke young woman," Jonathan growled.

"I told you you wouldn't believe me," Clark said, starting to get up from the chair. Martha motioned him to stay.

"What sort of memories?" she asked.

"Everything."

He didn't need super powers to read the disbelief in his father's face. Clark wondered what he could possibly tell them that would make them believe him.

"When I was eleven, I overheard Mrs. Atkinson talking to Mrs. Lang about how terrible it was that you and dad had adopted somebody's unwanted bastard and that it was only a matter of time before my 'breeding' came out and I'd break your heart, or worse. I was so upset I started running. I just ran and ran. When I stopped, I didn't know where I was, but it wasn't anywhere near Smallville. I found a payphone and called home collect. You and Dad were frantic. You thought I'd been kidnapped or something."

During the story, Jonathan had paled as well. He slowly sat down on the sofa next to his wife.

"Where did you call from?" Jonathan asked. His voice was tight.

"Boulder."

"You never told us why you ran away," Martha murmured. "You never told us you heard what she'd said."

"But we suspected," Jonathan added. "Moira Atkinson was a jealous old…"

Martha put a hand on Jonathan's arm and his voice trailed off.

"We never told anyone how far Jonathan had to drive to bring you back when you ran away that day," Martha said softly. "We let everyone assume you were hiding out in town somewhere."

"You believe me?" Clark asked. He couldn't keep the hope out of his voice.

"It's pretty hard to believe," Jonathan said.

"Harder than discovering a baby in a spaceship, or that your teenage son could bench press tractors?" Clark asked.

Jonathan managed a chuckle. "Well, when you put it that way…"

"What happened?" Martha asked.

"I went in to get Lois out. Luthor still had the gun. He shot… Superman. The next thing I know, I'm trapped in a glass canister and I look like this," he said. He studied his mother for a moment. "Did Luthor hurt you?"

"He tried to scare me," she admitted. "But for such a smart man, he really wasn't. Lola knew exactly where he was. She found where he'd stashed me and called the police. Led them right to him."

"So if I'd just waited a few minutes I would have had back up and this wouldn't have happened?" Clark asked.

"He would have killed Superman anyway," Lola said from the kitchen. "And then where would you be?"

"Lois might still be alive," he said.

"You don't know that she isn't," Lola said. "The same thing might have happened to her."

"You really think so?" Clark asked.

"Hey, I'm a clone and yesterday you were a guy who could fly," Lola said. "The way I figure it, anything can happen."

-o-o-o-

Henderson's visit had raised almost as many questions as it had answered. Lois now knew what name Luthor had planned on using and that he had planned to start his new life in Paris. She recalled him mentioning he had a villa on the French Riviera. No doubt he'd had the title transferred to his 'Alexander' identity.

She wondered what other arrangements he had made in preparation for his escape into another body. It was the perfect disguise. How could the police possibly make a case against a killer who has left his body behind, who could be anyone?

And Mrs. Alexander - was she Clark or Lex? If she was really Lex, it would be impossible to prove and chances were very good she was long gone.

And if it was Clark who had been transferred into the female body? What would he do? Where would he go?

Home?

She was certain his parents were still in town. They wouldn't have abandoned their son during his time of need – Luthor had torn their lives apart too with his madness. But how would they react to Clark being in a woman's body? How was _she_ going to tell her own parents? Or would she bother?

Well, she wasn't going to figure it out while stuck in a hospital room. She felt fine. In fact, she felt better than fine. She couldn't remember a time when she felt this good. The sun was up, streaming through the window and she could almost make out the individual flits of dust in the sunbeam.

Lois padded to the hospital room door. A uniformed officer was still sitting there reading the newspaper – the Daily Planet, in fact. 'Superman Dead' the headline screamed. A photo of Lois Lane's demolished body lying over Superman's graced the front page. A second above-the-fold headline read 'Journalist missing, presumed dead'. She noted that the byline on that article belonged to Perry White.

The officer didn't seem to notice her standing there. She cleared her throat, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I assume that you're here for my protection," she said. "And since I wasn't Mirandized or told I was under arrest, I also assume that I'm free to leave whenever I want to."

The officer's eyes widened in surprise and his mouth opened and closed several times before he found his voice. "Uh, I think Inspector Henderson wants you to stay put," he managed to stammer out.

"Tell you what, you find my clothes and my ID and I promise to make sure he gets my forwarding address."

"Everything's down at headquarters," he told her.

"And I'm supposed to go down to PP-One dressed like this to get them?" Lois asked, indicating the skimpy hospital gown she was wearing. The gown would have barely covered her in her normal body – in this body the gown let breezes through to places she hadn't even had before.

She gave him her best Lois Lane glare.

The officer sighed and pulled out his cell phone. "Let me call in and I'll see what we can do."

Within a short time, the officer – his name tag indicated his name was Rodrego – had rounded up a set of faded scrubs and a pair of flip-flops for Lois to wear and was driving her down to Henderson's office at One Police Plaza.

Rodrego wasn't a great conversationalist, but Lois also figured he was under orders not to give her any more information than he had to. Chances were that he didn't have any information in any case. Henderson didn't get to be an MPD inspector due to a charming personality or a tendency to chatter. He had been a good source for Lane and Kent, but always on _his_ terms.

Henderson was waiting when she and her escort got off the elevator on the tenth floor – Special Crimes. He didn't seem surprised to see her.

"I take it you're feeling better?" he asked, ushering her into his office. Reed and Wilkerson were already waiting there.

"I wasn't feeling bad when I first woke up in the hospital," Lois told him. "But I do need my ID and clothes, which you have."

Henderson seemed to think about this for a long moment. "You can sign for them on your way out. However, we do have a few more questions, if you don't mind," he finally said.

"Am I a suspect in anything?" Lois asked.

"We're satisfied that Luthor was responsible for Lane's kidnapping, her death and the death of Superman," Henderson said. "What's puzzling us is you and your wife. According to the crime scene unit, you two were never there. No fingerprints, hair, skin flakes, nothing. But obviously you were in Luthor's bunker because we found you there."

"Like I told you before, I don't remember anything about it except for waking up in that canister,' Lois told him. "And I don't know anything about Luthor, except what everyone else knows."

"Then can you explain why Luthor named you as his son and sole heir?" Wilkinson asked.

Lois felt the blood drain from her face. "He what?"

"You didn't know about it?" Henderson pressed.

Lois shook her head.

"We found a copy of Luthor's will in the same lockbox that we found your birth certificate, passport, credit cards and bearer bonds valued at about five hundred million dollars," Henderson explained. "You had no idea that Luthor was your father?"

Lois spat out a string of expletives describing Luthor's parentage that made Henderson's eyebrows threaten to climb into his hairline.

"I caught Russian, German, Gaelic and something like Chinese," he commented wryly.

"Vietnamese," Lois corrected without thinking. "My… I had a friend whose dad served in Nam. And no, I had no idea he was. In fact it makes me a little sick to think I might be related to that sick old… pervert."

"But you still have no recollection of how you and Mrs. Alexander got into those glass canisters?" Reed asked.

Lois shook her head, staring down at her hands. They still seemed too large and clunky. She couldn't imagine speed typing with them – even though she knew guys at least as large as she was now who did, including Clark.

"I'd like to speak with Mister Alexander alone, if you don't mind," Henderson announced. Wilkerson and Reed both gave him surprised looks but they left without comment, shutting the door behind them.

Henderson leaned back against his desk, arms crossed over his check as he regarded her.

"I'm pretty sure that you know a lot more than you're telling us. And I think I understand why," he said. "So let's call this 'deep background'. One of the sets of fingerprints we found in Luthor's lair belonged to a man known as Gupta Asabi. He's a charlatan who claims to know how to train people to transfer their consciousness from one body to another. He is also a known associate of Luthor's. He was picked up yesterday trying to leave the country."

"And?" Lois prompted.

"When we told Asabi that we had enough to charge him with accessory to kidnapping and murder, and a few other things, he spun a rather interesting story about Luthor having commissioned a pair of cloned bodies to be new and untraceable receptacles for his consciousness and Ms. Lane's."

"Sounds a little nuts to me," Lois said.

Henderson chuckled. "Yeah, it does, except that only last week someone managed to replace the President with a genetically identical fake and then did the same thing with a certain female Daily Planet reporter. Then you show up in a canister the lab boys tell me, quite unofficially, could well be an incubation chamber for inducing rapid growth in a clone."

"So you think maybe I'm one of those clones?" Lois asked.

Henderson shook his head. "I had a conversation with Doctor Mamba before the feds took him away. He confirmed Asabi's story about creating two genetically perfect bodies for Luthor along with a less than perfect Lois Lane clone. Now, if one part of Asabi's story is true, why not the other part?"

"So, you think Luthor succeeded in placing his consciousness in a different body?" Lois asked. She put as much disdain in her voice as she could.

"No, I don't think Luthor managed it," Henderson said. "His ego would be showing, among other things. No, I think his two victims got transferred before he could do it. That's why he turned that ray gun against the two of you."

"And why he ended up getting shot?" Lois asked.

Henderson shrugged. "It's never a good idea to ignore a police officer when he tells you to drop your weapon. So, based on what I've seen, I'm guessing you used to be Lois Lane."

"Like I'd ever admit it," Lois said. Henderson's observational skills were scary at times. And this was certainly one of those times.

"Look, I know you probably don't want to have anything to do with Luthor and his fortune, especially after all the grief he's caused you and Clark," Henderson said. "You certainly won't want to be identified as his son, but you might want to consider how much good you could do with all that money."


	2. Chapter 2

Clark sighed in frustration. He had his laptop and was logged into the Daily Planet's network but with all the Planet's resources, he couldn't find anything concerning a missing person matching his body's description.

"You're not going to find her," Lola said, setting a fresh cup of coffee down for him. "You're an A-type. Your gene stuff probably came from some swimsuit model and Mamba tweaked it to Lex's specifications. I think Lex actually preferred blondes."

"Lois wasn't a blonde," Clark reminded her.

"No. She was better. She belonged to his enemy," Lola said. "And Lex loved nothing more than to steal things that belonged to his enemies. Steal them or wreck them."

"You've gotten a lot… wiser… over the last day or so," Clark said.

"I've done a lot of reading and talking to your parents," Lola said with a shrug. "If it wasn't that my time's almost up, I might have grown up to become a real person."

"You are a real person," Clark assured her.

She shook her head. "I'm a soulless, paper-thin copy of Lois Lane."

"You're not soulless," Clark said. "And even if you are a copy, it just means you're a twin and twins are individuals too."

"You really think I have a soul?" she asked.

"Of course you do. You have a beautiful soul," Martha said coming up behind her. Martha set a plate of sandwiches down on the table for them. "I figure you haven't eaten for a while."

"I haven't eaten anything since I woke up like this," Clark admitted.

"Then you must be hungry," Martha said. She settled into a chair across the table from him and watched as he grabbed a sandwich and started eating.

"I don't want to have to talk about this," Martha said softly, "but we have to. Superman is dead and Clark Kent is missing and presumed dead. Now, your dad and I are convinced you're you, but there's no way we're ever going to convince a judge that you're Clark Kent."

"Which means I have no identity, no job, no money," Clark said.

"You can come back to the farm with us for a while," Martha offered.

"And how do you explain Malibu Barbie moving in with you?" Clark asked. "Plus I don't want to be a burden. I've been out on my own for how long now?"

"Clark, it's no burden," Jonathan said. Clark had no idea how long he'd been listening.

"You're our…" Jonathan's face suddenly creased with a broad grin. "…daughter?"

"Thanks, Dad," Clark said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. It was so weird hearing someone else's voice coming out of his mouth. "But seriously, what am I supposed to do?"

"Surely you know someone in Metropolis who could fix you up with ID," Martha suggested. "And as for money… Clark Kent is dead, or will be as soon as the ME agrees to issue a death certificate. As far as I know you haven't made out a will yet, so as next of kin, your dad and I inherit everything including all your bank accounts. We can certainly turn everything back over to you."

"You're also forgetting Lex," Lola said. "He was expecting to run off with Malibu Barbie. He wouldn't have left getting ID and stuff like that to after the fact."

"I'd rather not have anything to do with what that sick old man had planned," Clark said.

"Well, he's dead and won't be hurting anyone else ever again," Martha said.

"He's been dead before," Clark said with a sigh. "I swear the man has more lives than a cat."

"I doubt he's coming back this time," Martha said. "I overheard the ME's investigator tell Inspector Henderson that Luthor's body would be autopsied as soon as it made it to the morgue under guard. They weren't taking any chances this time. Superman's body was being sent to STAR Labs."

"And Lois?"

"The morgue," Martha said. "In her case they're more interested in the toxicology reports. The police found some pretty powerful psychotropic drugs in Luthor's lair. It's possible Lois would have recovered her memories on her own if she hadn't been drugged."

"Mom, I think you missed you're calling," Clark said. "You should have been a cop, or a mystery writer."

"Well, it's not too late for me to start writing," Martha said with a smile. "But I think it might be better if I stick to art. One writer in the family is enough," She stood up and regarded Clark critically. "We really have to take you shopping. Nothing of Lola's or Lois will fit you. I doubt anything I have will fit either."

"Shopping?" To Clark's horror the word came out in a squeak. "I hate shopping for clothes."

Lola gave him a wide-eyed look. "How can you hate shopping for clothes? That's one of the funnest things around. I'll show you all the best shops. It'll be fun."

But there was something frantic about her. Clark noticed how sunken her eyes were and how pale she looked.

"Lola, are you okay?" Clark asked worriedly.

"She needs to rest," Martha said. "But just like Lois, she won't."

"If I go to sleep, I'm afraid I won't wake up," Lola said. "Lex told me I had a lifespan of maybe fourteen days. I'm fourteen days old tomorrow." A tear ran down her cheek, then another and another.

Martha pulled her into hug. "Maybe Luthor was lying."

Lola shook her head. "Doctor Hamilton said no. He said Doctor Mamba encoded a kill switch in his creations. He didn't want them getting away from him. She's the A-type. No kill switch. Hundred life year span, maybe more. Lex had Mamba create the perfect woman for him. No frogs."

"I'm so sorry he did this to you," Clark said.

"He had me made to buy himself time, but mostly he made me to hurt you," Lola said. "He wanted Lois and you had her and he hated you for it. He wanted you to suffer. He wanted me to make you suffer."

"More the fool him," Martha said to her. "Knowing you has been an enlightening experience. One I wouldn't trade for all the tea in China. Now, go lie down before you fall down."

Lola started for the bedroom then grabbed Clark in a hug. "Have a good life," she murmured. "And remember, I did love you, in my own immature homicidal way."

"I know," Clark said. "I loved you, too."

Her face lit up in a beatific smile as she walked away.

Clark turned back to his mother. "Shouldn't we call Doctor Klein?"

"There's nothing he or Hamilton can do," she said. "She shouldn't be in any pain."

"Just 'lights out'?"

Martha nodded.

"You know, I hope Luthor's really dead," Clark said. "He's the only person I know I can honestly say that about. I'm hope that the bastard who did that to such an innocent… I really hope he's dead."

Clark took another sandwich and took a bite as he went back to his computer. He wasn't sure what his next step should be. Find Louie Logan and buy himself some identification and then figure out what to do with his life. Somewhere along the line he needed to find Malibu Ken and determine whether or not Luthor had succeeded in his attempt to evade justice.

He wasn't sure what he would do if he found out that Luthor had managed to escape into the other body.

-o-o-o-

Lois inspected the passport in her hand once again. _Martin Joseph Alexander_. The birth date made Martin twenty-three years old. His home address was in one of the small towns north of Metropolis. Lois was certain that either the address was false or it belonged to Luthor in some round about fashion.

The birth certificate was interesting as well. It was, supposedly, from a small town in British Columbia but Lois had no doubt that if she checked she'd find that the city records building had burned down some time ago and the delivering physician was long dead. Martin's parents were listed as Alexander Joseph Luthor and Gretchen Olga Kelley. Gretchen Kelley had been Luthor's personal physician for many years and had been instrumental in bringing him back from the dead after he dove off the top of the LexCorp Tower to escape the police. Kelley had been killed by Luthor when she objected to being thrown over for a younger woman – Lois Lane. Lois wondered how Kelley would feel about being used by Luthor once again.

Henderson had volunteered to drive her around for the afternoon. The First Metropolis Bank was their first stop – arranging a safe deposit box for the bearer bonds and opening an account for Lois under the name of 'Martin Alexander'. The second stop had been to check in to the Imperial Hotel and change clothes. Luthor had chosen dark Italian suits and linen tropical wear for his 'son'. The briefs were silk. Lois chose the linen slacks and a silk shirt. She would have preferred jeans and a t-shirt but Luthor hadn't packed any.

"Both of my supposed parents are dead, so there's no one to say I'm not who this all says I am," Lois muttered under her breath as Henderson drove his car out of the Imperial Hotel parking garage.

"Luthor put a lot of time and effort to make your background as convincing as possible," Henderson said.

"This would have taken more than just a few days," Lois pointed out.

"I have a suspicion that Luthor had been planning this for some time," Henderson said. "He never struck me as someone who left things to chance."

Lois chuckled. "You're sure I'm not really Lex Luthor in a hundred million dollar disguise? Or I'm not his illegitimate son, Martin, having some fun at your expense?"

"I doubt Luthor would have turned his weapon on his own flesh and blood," Henderson said. "And as I've already said, you don't have Luthor's attitude. But the attitude is very familiar."

"Is that why you're so willing to believe that Lois Lane's soul or consciousness or whatever could have been transferred into a mindless body?" Lois asked. "This body."

"Gupta Asabi may be a charlatan," Henderson said, "but that doesn't mean he doesn't have some small talent in the esoteric arts. What he said Luthor wanted him to do was extremely dangerous but within the realm of possibility. And he claimed he was successful."

"I thought cops were supposed to be pragmatic and realistic," Lois said. "Just the facts, ma'am."

"Sometimes the facts lead you to places you don't expect," Henderson said. "And sometimes the truth is just plain beyond fantastical. I've been a cop for a long time. I've seen things I didn't dare put down in my reports, things I know happened, facts I know were true but I also know that no one would believe."

"And this is one of them?" Lois asked.

Henderson nodded. "I've met Mamba's clones, the fake president and fake secret service man, the fake Lois Lane. One thing that struck me was that they couldn't manage the simplest things without intensive coaching. No one's been coaching you. You also have Lane's intonation and vocabulary and some of her body language. It didn't faze you at all when I used news jargon to you. You even have some of her tells."

"I'd hate to play poker with you," Lois said with a grin.

"Most of my job is just watching people," Henderson said. "Sometimes it's the look on a child's face that tells you which parent is the abuser. The tone in a victim's voice that tells you not to press too hard or the look in the perp's eye that tells you he thinks he's smarter than you. That he thinks he can get away with murder. Or when a pair of award-winning reporters say they didn't pick the lock when you know perfectly well they did but you know they know you won't do anything because they've just prevented a worse crime from being committed."

Lois found herself smiling. She hadn't realized exactly how perceptive Henderson really was, or what thin ice she'd been skating on all these years.

"I'm going to miss them," Henderson added. He pulled to a stop in front of Clark's apartment building. "Why here?"

Lois was surprised at the question. "Lois Lane's fiancé lives here."

"I know that, but do you think this is where the little lady headed for when she ran off?" Henderson pressed.

"According to the marriage license her name is 'Alexa Analouisa Parker Alexander'," Lois reminded him.

"Assuming I'm right and it's Superman in Alexa Analouisa Parker Alexander's body, should I ask why he would go to Clark Kent's apartment to hide out?"

"No."

Henderson chuckled and Lois had the feeling he knew exactly why Superman would go to Clark Kent's apartment to hide out.

"Tell 'Alexa' she can come down to my office tomorrow give her statement pick up her passport and clothes," Henderson said. "But Luthor packing nothing but frilly lingerie for Lois Lane to wear shows exactly how demented the man really was."

"Yeah." Lois opened the door and climbed out of the car. "Thanks, Inspector. For everything."

"Good luck," he responded before driving away.

Lois took a deep breath before climbing the steps to the building's front door. She had no idea how she was going to prove who she was to Clark and his parents, assuming Clark was even there. And if he wasn't then she had no idea where to start looking for him.

She knocked on the door to Clark's apartment. She could hear movement inside, feet on the steps approaching the door. Then the door opened. Martha peered out at her.

"Is Clark here?" Lois blurted out. Martha looked surprised and a little hurt and Lois realized what she had just said.

"Stupid, Lane, just put your mouth in it…" Lois muttered to herself. She turned back to Martha. "Did a woman show up here a few hours ago, five-sevenish, blonde hair, blue-eyes, built like a Playboy centerfold and wearing clothes stolen from Met General?"

Martha's eyes had widened. "You're the other one."

Lois nodded. "Yeah."

Martha moved aside and let her pass. Jonathan was standing at the bottom of the steps.

"And you are?" he demanded.

Lois could see a pretty blonde woman peering around the corner at her. "Clark?"

The woman stepped out to face her. "Who are you?" She had a pleasant alto voice but her expression was hard with a touch of hurt and worried.

"Well, my passport has me down as Martin Joseph Alexander," Lois said. "But that's not who I was when I woke up yesterday."

"And who was that?"

"Wanda Detroit," Lois said, "only she never existed and Lois Lane is dead."

"So is Superman," the woman said. "But how do we know you're who you say you are? That this isn't some sick trick Luthor's still playing?"

Lois sighed. "Clark proposed to Lois in Centennial Park, near the fountain. It was raining and he looked up into the sky and yelled 'Come on, give me a break here...' She asked him if he wanted to get out of the rain and he replied 'If the Earth opened up at my feet, I wouldn't move till I'd finished saying this.' Then he got down on one knee and said, 'Lois... will you marry me?' And then Lois said, 'Who's asking?'"

"Clark... or Superman?" the woman said. "Lois said no that time."

"Lois said she had to think about it," Lois corrected. "After all the federal disasters she'd had for relationships, she needed to think hard about what being married would mean."

"So, when did she say yes?" the woman asked. It was so weird to be hearing Clark's words out of a woman's mouth.

"She didn't, exactly," Lois said. "She proposed to Clark just after Ultra Woman left for wherever. He asked her, 'Who's asking… Lois or Ultra Woman?' And she responded 'Who's answering… Clark or Superman?'"

"Lois?" the woman said, then she pulled Lois into a hug. It felt odd. Lois had always fit into Clark's shoulder just right. Now she towered over the person in her arms. Clark had been broad shouldered and muscular. Alexa was muscular, but in a feminine way.

Lois pulled back. "The name on my passport and birth certificate says Martin Alexander. The name on your passport is Alexa Analouisa Alexander. Those were the names Luthor chose for himself and me. There's also a marriage certificate with those names. Supposedly we've been married a week."

"How did this happen?" Martha asked.

Lois sat down on the sofa, tucking one foot under her, and told them about Luthor's plans to escape justice inside a new body.

"I told you, this was all Lex's plan," another voice added when she was finished. A face Lois knew from her own mirror was watching her from the bedroom. The clone Luthor had commissioned. The clone grinned. "Only you beat him at his own game. He's dead and you're not."

"But how do you fix things? How do you get back to being who you are… were?" Jonathan asked.

"Leek is dead, and Hamilton may or may not be able to replicate his success in cloning gangsters. Mamba is in federal custody and I doubt the feds will help us, assuming they believe us," Clark said. "I'm not sure _I_ believe us." He ran a hand through his hair. It was a nervous habit Lois recognized but it looked odd on 'Alexa'.

"Plus, there's the added complication of Superman," Clark continued. "We know Leek was able to clone him, but he was like one of Mamba's B-class clones. He didn't live long. So we don't know if anyone is even capable of cloning Superman, assuming that was a good idea anyway."

"And on top of all that, is it really a good idea to let everyone know that it's possible for this type of transfer to take place?" Martha asked. "I mean every rapist and murderer in prison could turn around and claim that his body had been 'borrowed' by some unknown entity and so he wasn't culpable for his crimes. And there'd be no way to prove it one way or another."

The phone rang and they all looked at one another to see who would answer. At the third ring Jonathan picked up the phone. Lois heard Henderson's voice on the line. "If you haven't seen the news, turn on LNN," he told Jonathan. "And I promise you, I will get to the bottom of this."

Lois went over and turned on Clark's TV, tuning it to LNN. Pictures of Clark Kent and Superman were on the screen and Grant Burton's voice was saying, "… sources inside the MPD confirm that one of the items retrieved from Lex Luthor's underground lair was a tape recording in which Luthor states unequivocally that Superman was in actuality none other than Daily Planet journalist Clark Kent, fiancé of the late Lois Lane. MPD sources also tell us that the two people recovered alive from Luthor's lair…" Here there was a video of two people being placed in an ambulance. "…were in fact Lex Luthor's son and daughter-in-law, Martin and Alexa Alexander. They have been taken to an undisclosed location and have been unavailable for comment…"

Lois felt everyone's eyes on her. "Uh, yeah, I forgot to mention that. Luthor's way to get around all the identification issues from moving into a new body was to arrange for that body to be identified as his son and heir. Martin and Alexa Alexander are currently worth about five hundred million dollars, and that's just what we know about."

"Oh boy," Clark muttered.

-o-o-o-

Clark would have been hard put to imagine a worse scenario than the one in front of him. Lex Luthor was running his life from beyond the grave and the world now knew that Clark Kent had been Superman. Maybe being in his own body when this all happened might have been worse. Maybe. At least the media wouldn't be hounding Alexa Alexander for being Superman.

"I guess we won't have any problem with the M.E. issuing a death certificate," Martha said. There was a note in her voice that Clark had never heard before – verging on hysterical.

"I guess not," Clark agreed. "This isn't exactly the way I had imagined the world finding out. Mom, Dad, I'm so sorry to put you through this."

"It's not your fault," Jonathan assured him. Clark wasn't convinced. If he had just waited a few seconds, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe he and Lois would still be in their own bodies and Luthor would simply be behind bars and they could get on with their lives.

"We can deny Luthor's allegations," Lois suggested. "Luthor was nuts. He was imagining things. It'll be like when Diana Stride tried to make the connection between Clark and Superman. The reputable journalists didn't buy into it, especially once they saw him and Superman together."

"Clark Kent isn't going to be walking through that door any time soon," Clark reminded her. "And then there's _us_. How do we explain the 'Alexanders' even knowing Clark Kent's parents?"

"Maybe Martin found out about Luthor's relationship with his mother and was helping Clark track Luthor down to bring him to justice," Lois suggested. "And everybody who knows your parents knows how open and friendly they are. I'm surprised you don't have a houseful of stray cats."

"On a farm, cats are working animals and they don't live in the house," Martha stated primly. At least she sounded more normal now.

"You know what I mean," Lois stated. "If Martin and Alexa had been working with Clark, maybe even become friends despite the Luthor connection…"

"You'd be treating them like they were Clark's old school chums," Clark broke in. "And they would want to be here for you. It could work."

"I know it'll work," Lois insisted.

There was a knock on the door and Lois went to get it this time. There was a uniformed police officer on standing in the hallway.

"Mister Alexander?" the officer asked. At Lois's nod he went on. "Henderson asked that a protection detail be provided for you and the Kents, at least until this thing about Luthor's tape blows over."

"That's very kind of him," Lois said. Clark watched the officer try to look past Lois into the apartment. Luckily Lois's new body was at least as broad as Clark's old one had been. She stepped easily in front of officer, blocking his view.

Something about the officer seemed off. Alarms went off in Clark's head and he hurried his parents into the bedroom, away from prying eyes.

"So, this is where Superman used to live," the officer said, obviously trying to make conversation.

"This is where Clark Kent lives," Lois corrected the man. "In case no one noticed, Lex Luthor was mad as a hatter."

"Then where's Kent?" the officer asked.

"Hopefully, _not_ at the bottom of the West River," Lois said. "Is there something else you want, Officer… Morris?"

Clark peered around the corner to watch them. Without his powers he felt helpless. This body didn't have the mass he was used to, nor the strength or reach but he wasn't about to let Lois face this problem alone. He had a bad feeling about Morris.

"The phone's dead," his mother whispered.

"Where'd you stash Daddy's money?" Morris asked Lois. There was something definitely unpleasant in his voice. Then Clark placed where he knew Morris from – he was one of the officers who had been censured for making snide comments about Lois just after her abduction was discovered. There were other black marks against him that Clark hadn't been apprised of, but his impression was that they had to do with Luthor.

"Why do you want to know?" Lois asked Morris.

"All those millions just lying there for the taking and it just gets handed to you," Morris growled.

"And we're supposed to do what? Hand it over to you because of your rugged manly charm?" Lois asked. "I don't think so."

Clark groaned silently. Morris might have taken the insult from a female Lois Lane, but not from Luthor's son. Clark stepped into the living room in full view of Morris. Hopefully he could distract the man so Lois could make an escape.

Clark could hear his mother on her cell phone talking to someone. He didn't pay attention to who she was talking but assumed it was Henderson or Reed. Mom was nothing if not a smart woman. She knew there was something off about Morris.

Lois, on the other hand, instead of taking advantage of the distraction to put some distance between herself and Morris simply stood there.

"You can leave now," Lois told Morris firmly.

"I don't think so." Morris replied and Clark realized that he'd pulled his gun. "Inside,"  
he ordered.

Instead Lois opened the door wider. "Mister Nunc, have you got this?" she called out.

Leo Nunc from the sleaze bag known as the Inquisitor – Clark hadn't realized that Nunc and his cameraman were back. He had thought his dad had managed to chase the little weasel away.

Lola came storming out of the bedroom. "I won't let you hurt them!"

The rest seemed to happen in slow motion. Morris turned and pointed his gun at Lola as Clark grabbed her and pulled her down to the floor. Two shots rang out.

Out of the corner of his eye Clark saw Lois bringing her locked hands down on Morris's gun arm. Morris began howling and Clark suspected that Lois had managed to break the officer's arm.

The world went back to normal time. Lola was unnaturally still beneath him. Clark got to his knees to check on her. A crimson stain was spreading across the front of her blouse. "I loved you…"

"Honey?" a man's voice asked. It took a moment for Clark to realize it was Lois that was speaking. Lois was staring at him and there was an odd stinging on his side. Clark looked down to see blood staining one side of his own shirt.

"Everybody put your hands where I can see them," a familiar female voice yelled. Betty Reed had her own gun drawn as she walked in, scanning the living room. Wilkerson was right behind her.

"They came at me," Morris yelled at Reed. In response Reed kicked his gun away. It clattered down the steps.

"We need a bus here!" Reed yelled into her cell phone. She gave the address as Wilkerson ran past her and down the steps to tend to Lola and Clark. He knelt by Lola and checked the pulse at her throat. Then he shook his head. Clark already knew Lola was gone.

Wilkerson raised Clark's shirt to check his injuries. "Are you hurting anywhere else?"

Clark shook his head. Somehow Wilkerson had a towel in his hand and was pressing it against the wound on Clark's side. Martha was kneeling beside them, murmuring assurances.

"They came at me," Morris repeated to Reed. "It was self defense."

"No it wasn't," a man said. Clark looked up to see Nunc standing in the doorway holding a video tape. "We have it all on tape. He was threatening pretty boy here and then just opened fire on two defenseless women."

Reed put out her hand to take the tape but Nunc held it away from her. "What will you give me for it?" he asked.

"Withholding evidence in a police shooting?" Reed asked in return. "You tell me. Free room and board as an uncooperative material witness?"

Nunc made a face but handed over the tape. "I was thinking more in terms of an exclusive no holds barred interview with the team that was looking into Lois Lane's involvement with the late and apparently unlamented Lex Luthor."

"That case is still open," Reed responded.

"I'm sure it is," Nunc said nodding toward Lola's body. "Especially since it looks like there's gonna be two Lois Lanes in the morgue tonight. So somebody want to explain that?"

"Not especially," Reed said, handing Nunc a receipt for his video tape. "Let me know if you decide to leave town."

-o-o-o-

Lois wanted to run to Clark but settled for a slow walk. She didn't want to spook Reed or Wilkerson who had to be on edge with the whole situation.

Lois had sensed there had been something off with Morris even when she signed for her property back at One-P-P. Morris had been manning the property desk and he had been sweating and seemed nervous – almost as though he'd expected to get caught for something. Even Henderson had noticed it but hadn't said anything.

Standing in Clark's doorway, Morris had been sweating even more profusely – Lois could smell the stink of stress on him – and his heart had been beating too fast. She'd actually been able to hear it – a faint shwoosh shwoosh.

Then Nunc and his cameraman had appeared. As much as Lois despised Nunc and the paper he worked for, Lois had doubted that Morris would do anything too foolish in front of a reporter and a camera.

She'd been wrong. Now Lola was dead and Clark was hurt and there was a good chance that she'd be arrested for assaulting a police officer. She was sure she had broken his arm. Her body was stronger than she'd thought and it was hard to judge her stride and reach when she wasn't actually paying attention. 'Mindfulness' her Tae Kwon Do instructors called it. She needed to be more mindful of her new body or more people might get hurt.

Lois could hear multiple sirens approaching fast. Then they went quiet – they had arrived.

She wasn't sure if she should be relieved or not when Henderson walked in with the EMTs and the crime scene unit.

Henderson's eyebrows went up when he caught sight of Nunc but he didn't say anything about that either. "Are the Kents okay?" he asked Reed instead.

She nodded. "Will and I were in the area when the call came through about a cop waving his gun around and making threatening noises. Considering the address…"

"Good call," Henderson said.

Morris started complaining again. "He broke my freakin' arm!" The EMTs ignored the complaints as they helped him up the stairs, followed by a grim faced Wilkerson. Another EMT finished bandaging Clark's wound and was trying to get him to lie down on the gurney.

"Honey, please…" Martha was saying.

"I'm fine," Clark protested.

"You've just been shot!" Lois yelled at him. He was such a lunkhead sometimes. "Do what they tell you. You're not invulnerable…"

From the hurt look he gave her she knew he was reading more into her statement. 'You're not invulnerable _any more_…'

"Please," Lois said, "let them help you."

Clark nodded sullenly but settled back on the gurney. "I hate hospitals, you know," he grumbled to no one in particular. The EMTs just grinned. Martha patted his arm.

"I'll go with her," Martha mouthed to Lois as she followed the EMTs and gurney up the steps. A uniformed officer escorted Nunc out as well.

Henderson beckoned Lois to join him.

"Sorry about hurting Morris," Lois said.

"I figure I should be glad you didn't break his neck," Henderson responded. "As near as we can tell, Morris is the one who gave Luthor's tape about Superman and Kent to LNN. We've had issues with him before but nothing like this."

"What kind of issues?"

Henderson's eyebrows went up again. "You sound like a reporter."

Lois shrugged. "Maybe I spent a previous life as a reporter."

Henderson managed a chuckle before continuing. "Let's just say there were indications that Morris did Luthor and his people an awful lot of favors with evidence disappearing, things like that. And he may have been liberating little things from the prisoner effects. Not that we've ever been able to do more than slap his hands. But this… this is over the top even for somebody on Luthor's payroll, unless…" He paused and gave Lois a speculative look. "What did he say he wanted?"

"Where I put Luthor's money," Lois said. " 'All those millions just lying there for the taking and it just gets handed to you,' he said. He pulled his gun out. Then Cl… Alexa came out and so did Lola. I wasn't fast enough to stop him from pulling the trigger." Lois wanted to kick herself for her slip – as far as Henderson knew it was Superman in Alexa's body, not Clark.

"Do you think he was aiming at Mrs. Alexander or at the Lane clone?" Reed asked quietly.

"It happened so quickly and they were so close together… Alexa was out here and Lola came out yelling 'I won't let you hurt them.' Alexa grabbed Lola, was between her and Morris when Morris opened fire. I wasn't fast enough to stop him."

"We'll need to test you for gunpowder residue," Reed said.

Lois held out her hands and one of the techs swabbed her hands, putting the swabs into a plastic baggie.

Henderson reached into his pocket, pulled out a business card and handed it to Lois. 'O'Brien Agency' the card read in an elegant embossed type. There was no address, only a phone number, but Lois had heard of them – they provided 'close protection' for wealthy and influential people. She had even interviewed the owner of the agency a few years before – Donal O'Brien, a retired MPD police commissioner with a reputation for scrupulous integrity and discretion.

"I've already contacted them on your behalf," Henderson said quietly. "And, no, Morris wasn't sent by anyone in my unit. He wasn't trained for close protection work for one. And I hadn't ordered a protection detail."

"I didn't think you had," Lois said. "But if you didn't, how did Morris know where we were?"

"Good question," Henderson said. "When the CSU is finished here, we'll lock this place down and put a guard on it. In the meantime, I'll run you and Mister Kent over to the Imperial. O'Brien will be meeting you there."

Lois simply nodded. Henderson wasn't going to give up any more information until he had a better handle on it. Lois Lane was dead. She wasn't in a position to get anything more from him. Idly she wondered if she should call the story of the attack in to the Planet. She wasn't sure who Perry assigned the kidnapping story to. Not Clark, he would have been too close to the story. But someone there should be champing at the bit to get more on the story of Lane's and Superman's deaths at the hands of Lex Luthor.

Henderson looked around the apartment. "Is there a back way out of here?"

"Not out of the apartment, but out of the building, yes," Lois answered.

"Good," Henderson responded. "This street is going to be swarming with media any minute and that's a gauntlet I don't want to run right now."

Luckily, the camera crews arriving on the scene didn't notice Lois, Jonathan and Henderson as they made their way down the alley to Henderson's sedan.

"Mister Kent, if it's any consolation, it's the opinion of the investigating officers that Luthor wasn't working on all thrusters when he recorded that statement about your son being Superman," Henderson said after they were well away from the apartment.

"What about you?" Jonathan asked. His voice was very subdued.

"Do I think Clark Kent moonlighted as a guy who could fly? I admit there was a certain superficial resemblance between them that made me wonder a little. But a suspicion isn't the same as proof and there is no proof. Not even a fingerprint match. Do I think Luthor was certifiable? Yes," Henderson answered. "Officially Clark is missing and presumed dead. Odds are that he was Luthor's test case with that weapon of his. Of course, without a body or witnesses it'll be hard to prove."

"Suppose I said I saw Clark down in Luthor's bunker just before Superman showed up?" Lois offered. "And I saw Luthor kill him."

"Did you?"

"I said, 'suppose'," Lois reminded him.

Henderson took a moment to respond. "Martin Alexander, can you positively state that you saw Lex Luthor kill Clark Kent?"

"Yes," Lois answered. She assumed Henderson had a tape recorder and had turned it on. "I saw Lex Luthor kill Clark Kent, in the bunker with the disrupter."


	3. Chapter 3

A second trip to the hospital in just twenty-four hours, Clark groused to himself. At least he was conscious for this trip and his mom was with him. That was at least one bit of comfort although he did feel vaguely unsettled that Lois hadn't come with him. But then, Lois was probably as weirded out by the whole gender switch as he was and wasn't sure what was and was not appropriate behavior for her.

The EMT fussed over him, taking his blood pressure and checking his vital signs, while Martha looked on from the front seat of the ambulance.

Yesterday everything had seemed so clear – rescue Lois from a madman and get on with their lives together. Now nothing was clear or straight forward and Lola, poor child-like Lola, was dead. He hadn't been able to save her. Of all the people he had failed to save, including Mayson Drake, Lola's death was actually the most painful. She had run out to protect him and her rival Lois, and had died for it.

_Superman is dead and Lola paid the price for it too._

The EMTs explained Clark's condition and turned him over to the ER staff. Apparently it was a quiet evening in Metropolis – there was no waiting to get treatment.

"With Superman dead, the MPD has beefed up their patrols," one of the nurses explained. "So, tonight's been quiet. Plus I guess we keep hoping that the reports on Superman's death were wrong. I mean, he was Superman, right?"

"Yeah, he was," Clark said. "But even a superman can die." It was heartening to know that his work had been appreciated in Metropolis and that Superman would be missed.

Shortly, the nurse left and Clark was alone with his mother for the first time since all of this happened.

"Mo…" He caught himself – no one could know about Alexa's real relationship with the Kents. "Mrs. Kent, why would anyone want Lola dead?"

"How about 'Aunt Martha'?" she suggested with a smile.

Clark nodded, returning the smile. "Aunt Martha."

"What makes you think she was the target?" she asked.

"Morris had plenty of time to get me before she ran out," Clark said. "I don't think he cared if he killed me, but I don't think I was the target."

"Assuming you're right, then I would guess that someone was afraid she knew something about something and didn't want whatever it was to get out," Martha said. "Luthor had coached her to access the safe deposit box at the bank. Maybe she knew how to access more than just _that_ safe deposit box."

"That makes sense," Clark agreed. "Luthor wouldn't have left himself with just one cache. He might have even put the other instructions as a post-hypnotic suggestion, so she couldn't tell anyone that she knew."

"She may not have known that she knew," Martha suggested.

The curtain to the cubicle was pushed aside and the ER doctor walked in. "Well, your X-rays came up clear, so I see no reason why you can't just go home," he said. "But have your personal physician check on the wound in a few days and don't hesitate to come back if the pain gets worse, or if there's any sign of infection."

"I'll make sure she does that," Martha assured the doctor.

Detective Reed and Wilkerson were waiting for them as they left the ER.

"This time, someone really is assigned close protection duty for you," Reed explained. "Plus, we never did get to take your statement." Reed gave Clark a pointed look as she opened the car door for him.

"Sorry about that," Clark said. "I just have a really serious aversion to doctors and hospitals. And after what's happened the last couple days…" He let his voice trail off, hoping Reed would take the hint that he didn't want to talk about it. Besides, he had no idea what Lois had told them about that happened.

"So," Reed began as Wilkerson started the car. "What were you doing in Luthor's bunker?"

"I honestly have no idea," Clark said. He didn't want to lie to Reed but he doubted she would believe the truth – that he had gone there as Superman to rescue Lois. "The first thing I remember is waking up in that canister and seeing Superman and Lois Lane dead on the floor."

"How do you know they were dead?" Reed asked.

"Their chests had large holes in them," Clark said. "_Very _large holes."

"Was there anyone else there?"

"Um… Martin was in a canister like mine and Luthor was standing over the bodies with some sort of weapon. Then the police came, ordered Luthor to drop his weapon, he didn't and he was shot."

"When did you first meet Mister Luthor?" Reed asked.

"I never did," Clark said. "The first I'd ever even seen him in the flesh was in the bunker."

"But wasn't he your father-in-law?"

"I'm told that the police found documents to that effect," Clark said. "But I had no knowledge of Luthor's relationship to Martin prior to this morning. And I don't think Martin did either, not really." It was weird referring to Lois as 'Martin'. The name didn't fit the person he knew but it was the name he was stuck using thanks to Luthor.

"How did you meet Mrs. Kent here?"

"Through Clark Kent," Clark answered. "Martin had some crazy idea that we could help him find his fiancée."

"And what gave him that idea?" Reed asked.

Clark just shook his head. He had no idea what Lois had told the police.

"So, you've been married, what… a week?"

Clark nodded.

"Detective, why are you asking so many questions about Martin and Alexa?" Martha interrupted. "She's told you what she knows about that happened in the bunker."

"I don't like unfinished puzzles," Reed said. "And the Alexanders are definitely an unfinished puzzle. I checked. Despite the documents we found – and they appear to be utterly authentic – Martin and Alexa Alexander didn't exist until just this week. They have no cell phones, no credit card charges, and the clothes in their suitcases had never been worn. So, either they've just been processed by the Feds for witness protection – in which case somebody fell down on the job in briefing them on their new lives – or someone else, probably Luthor, arranged all new identities for them. And if it _was_ Luthor, well that begs the question of why, since neither of you show up in any of our databases, including federal ones, as persons of interest. So, what gives?"

"You won't believe me," Clark warned.

"Honey, don't," Martha said. She placed a hand on his arm.

"What won't I believe?" Reed prompted.

"You know that Luthor was behind Mamba's cloning of the President, right?" Clark asked.

"That's what Mamba told us before the case was handed to the feds," Reed said.

"Luthor also commissioned Mamba to create two other bodies," Clark said, "designed to his specifications. He had some bizarre idea that he could transfer his consciousness into one of the bodies and so escape justice. Needless to say, it didn't work."

"You're trying to tell us that you were manufactured like the president's double?" Wilkerson finally spoke up.

"Al Capone, John Dillinger and Bonnie and Clyde went on a bank robbery and murder spree only fifteen months ago," Clark reminded him. "Is it such a stretch to think that Luthor manufactured his own heir?"

Reed snorted. "You're right. I don't believe you. I've met Mamba's other creations and you're not one of them. Which leads me right back to the feds, and I know they won't admit to diddly squat, or some shenanigan of Luthor's and you're too scared to talk about it."

Wilkerson stopped the car in front of the Imperial. Clark had attended meetings in the grand old dame of Metropolis hotels. It wasn't as brightly modern as the Lexor but it had its own charm and a recent remodeling had given it all the modern amenities. Clark wondered a little at who had chosen for them to stay at the Imperial rather than the Lexor – Lois or Henderson?

Reed got out of the car with Clark and Martha. "My orders are to get you to your suite in one piece," Reed explained.

"Do you think your boss will mind if we make a couple stops on the way?" Martha asked, eyeing Clark's clothes.

Suddenly Clark felt self-conscious. He was still wearing the scrubs he'd 'liberated' from the hospital that morning, only now they had blood on them and the blouse had a tear where the bullet had torn through.

Reed looked Clark up and down and nodded.

"Just don't tell my wife about this, okay?" Wilkerson said when told of the change in plans. "She'll make me go shopping with _her_. And I hate shopping."

"Well, you can wait by the door," Reed told him.

To Clark's horror, their first stop was the Victoria's Secret which opened just off the hotel lobby. Martha grabbed a sales clerk. "My niece's luggage was stolen so we need to replace everything," she explained.

"And what sizes are you?" the clerk asked Clark.

Clark gave his mother a horrified look.

Martha chuckled. "She needs to be measured."

At least Reed didn't laugh when the clerk brought out the tape measure and the experience wasn't as horrific as Clark had feared. The woman was able to do the actual measuring over his clothes.

"You know, you have the same measurements as Marilyn Monroe," the clerk observed. "Do you have a preferred style for the bras?"

Clark shook his head.

"Underwire, padded, uplift, convertible, lacey, barely there…?" the clerk went on.

Martha answered. "Cotton, simple, two underwire, one black, one nude, a couple suitable for sports and one convertible in nude."

"And panties?"

"Half a dozen cotton hip-huggers in nude," Martha told the clerk. She turned to Clark. "You can always get something more daring later." She pointed to the clothing. "Go pick out some sleep bottoms and tops, a robe and some leggings and exercise tops."

"There're some really cute sundresses over there, too," Reed chimed in. Clark gave her a horrified look before going to choose the simplest fabric patterns he could find for pajamas and exercise clothes.

Reed found a brightly colored sundress and held it to herself. "Heck, I should pick some things up here."

The pile on the counter was getting larger as Martha picked out some shirts and several pairs of loose pants for him.

Clark picked out a long halter-top dress in black. It would have looked good on Lois.

"Honey, go with the navy," Reed instructed. "The black is just too much for your coloring."

Clark put the black one back and pulled out the navy one. He had no idea what Reed meant by black being too much for his new coloring, but it wasn't worth arguing about.

"That blue tie-dyed number would look great on you, too," Reed added. Clark added it the pile.

"The green one would be a good color on you," Martha told Reed.

"Yeah," Reed agreed. "I really have to come back here and do some shopping."

The clerk brought over the bras Martha had specified. "The dressing room's over there," she told them.

"Do I have to?" Clark complained.

"Yes," Martha told him. "We have to make sure they fit right and give enough support."

"But…"

"Honey," Martha lowered her voice to a near whisper, "that madman didn't do you any favors by giving you so much up front. Breast tissue is delicate and breaks down. You don't want 'em down at your waist now, do you?"

Clark opened his mouth then shut it again. He hadn't realized until now exactly how complicated his life was becoming. Lois had never talked about bras or breast tissue breaking down and Lois hadn't been exactly small breasted.

Clark grabbed two different styles and went into the dressing room. To his horror, Martha walked in behind him.

"I can do this myself," he protested.

"Honey, the closest thing to a bra you've ever worn was a sports cup," Martha told him. "And there's nothing you've got that I haven't seen… in a mirror."

"Mo… Aunt Martha!" Clark hissed at her. His cheeks felt warm and he was sure he was blushing.

She simply laughed and handed him the underwire.

**A/N**: Marilyn Monroe (according to the studios) was 5' 5 1/2", 115-120 lbs, 37-23-36.

-o-o-o-

As Henderson had promised, Donal O'Brien had been waiting in the lobby of the Imperial when Lois and Jonathan walked in. Lois recognized him from her previous interview with him. He hadn't changed much – he was still a fit older man with close-cropped hair and a well tailored suit, although he was grayer than he'd been the last time they'd met.

Lois had to remind herself that Martin Alexander had never met Donal O'Brien.

"Bill apprised me of the situation," O'Brien said once the introductions were made and they were away from prying eyes and ears. "You're Luthor's previously unknown heir. He had a lot of enemies, you've just come into what may be what's left of his fortune, and someone has already made an attempt on your wife's life."

"We're not sure she was the target," Lois added.

"But she did end up in the ER," O'Brien said meaningfully.

Lois had to concede the point.

"Real bodyguards, or close protection officers, aren't like what you see in the movies or on TV," O'Brien explained. "It's not a single Rambo type, it's a professionally trained team – more like a scaled down version of the team that protects the president or visiting dignitaries. Our job is not to take the bullet for you but to make sure you don't walk into a situation where there _is_ a bullet."

He went on to explain about armored Rovers and Suburbans, how the driver stayed with the car while someone accompanied the principals. That person checked out the area and kept away overly inquisitive members of the media – or anyone else who wanted to get too close without permission.

O'Brien mapped out his suggestions for security and gave her the price tag. It was less than she had expected – not that money was an issue for the moment. Lois agreed to hire O'Brien's team, at least until she and Clark had a better handle on the situation.

A car, driver and CPO would be there in the morning to pick her and Clark up so they could run whatever errands they needed to take care of.

The price tag reminded Lois that she and Clark needed to sit down and talk about Luthor's millions. Did they even want to keep it? Lois knew it was money Luthor had gotten illegally, even if it couldn't be proven. And Clark was such a boy scout he would no doubt want to be rid of it.

On the other side was the fact that Martin and Alexa Alexander were unemployed and unemployable. As far as she knew they had no employment record and no documentable education. And no one was going to take the risk of hiring the son and daughter-in-law of Superman's murderer.

"Lois…" Jonathan began after O'Brien left.

"We should probably get used to using the other names," Lois said. "But 'Martin' is just so…"

"Jokey, considering who chose it?" Jonathan filled in for her.

"Yeah."

"How about the middle name, Joseph? Joey?" Jonathan suggested.

Lois thought about it a moment, rolling the variations through her mind. _Joseph Alexander… Joey Alexander… Joe Alexander… Louis Alexander… Lane Alexander…_

"Lane." Lois announced. "Lane Alexander. At least I won't forget to answer to it."

"Okay, 'Lane' it is," Jonathan agreed with a smile. "Lane, one of the things you and 'Alexa' really need to do tomorrow is find a good investment counselor. I know all that money looks like a huge pile now, but you two need to figure out your priorities and put the money to work for you. Otherwise you'll end up making foolish choices and frittering it away."

"You think Clark and I can't handle it?" she asked.

Jonathan shook his head. "It's not that. It's just that, well, you've read the stories about lottery winners."

"Yeah. They think those free millions will solve all their problems," Lois said. "Then they blow through it and are left with nothing but the taxes. So, no private jets at private airstrips?"

"No private jets at private airstrips."

There was a knock at the door. Jonathan gestured for Lois to stay seated as he went to the answer it. Lois could hear the conversation on the other side – Martha, Clark, and Detective Reed were speaking to the man O'Brien had left in the hallway. Lois was surprised she could hear them so clearly – the last time she'd been able to do that was when she was… _Ultrawoman._

Was it possible that Luthor's specifications for his new body had included some 'super' modifications? Had Mamba gotten his hands on some cells from Superman without anyone realizing it? Was that why Mamba was now in the hands of the Feds? So many questions and so few answers.

Lois checked her forearms. She had hit Morris hard enough to break his arm and hadn't even gotten bruised. She wondered what other surprises they were going to find as time went on. And how was Clark going feel about what Luthor had planned?

Jonathan opened the door.

Martha hurried into the suite's living area. Her arms were filled with bags from Eddie Bauer. Clark's bags were labeled Victoria's Secret. Lois recalled that both stores were on the main floor of the building.

Clark – 'Alexa' – was finally out of the scrubs. He – she – was wearing ballet flats, white leggings, and a loose off-the-shoulder tunic in pale blue.

To Lois's surprise, she felt her male body responding to the sight of Clark's female body. "Uh, wow," she managed to say.

"Um, I think 'Aunt Martha' never outgrew dressing up Barbie," Clark said, looking down at himself.

Reed laughed, bid them all a good evening and shut the door behind her.

"Do I want to know how much this set us back?" Jonathan asked his wife.

"I promise I'll pay you back as soon as I got my ID from the police tomorrow," Clark said. He looked over at Lois. "I never realized how complicated being female was in this society. Have you any idea how much a decent bra costs?"

Lois laughed. "Why do you think I have a drawer full of old ones I couldn't bear to throw out?" Then her expression grew somber as she realized what she'd just said. "I _used_ to have a drawer full. I guess Lucy will be getting all my clothes, or one of the charities. I don't dare let my folks know what happened."

"You still have us," Martha said, giving her a hug. Lois carefully hugged her back. She didn't know if or when any other powers might kick in.

"So, what gives with the guy at the door?" Clark asked.

"Henderson arranged for us to hire the O'Brien Agency to provide security, at least until we get everything figured out," Lois explained. "Maybe if we'd thought of it earlier, maybe Lola wouldn't be dead."

Clark sighed. "I can't help feeling that I failed her," he said. "That I should have been able to stop it."

"Honey, we've been through this," Martha said. "Even Superman couldn't save everyone."

"And speaking of Superman," Lois said, "we need to talk to Klein and Hamilton tomorrow. I think Luthor still had some of Superman's DNA and gave it to Mamba."

"What makes you think that?" Clark asked.

Lois shrugged. "Little things," she said, "like I broke Morris's arm without trying."

"Anything else?"

Lois tugged on her ear to indicate hearing.

"I had hoped that Leek's creation had destroyed all of Luthor's samples," Clark said. "Obviously at least one viable sample survived." Clark ran a hand through his hair, a sure sign of frustration.

"Have you shown any signs of…?" Lois asked.

Clark shook his head. "Luthor would have wanted to keep all the power for himself. He would never have run the risk of allowing anyone else the ability to stop him."

"I'm hoping Klein will be able to tell us how this consciousness transfer happened so we can have our genders switched back to something we're a little more used to," Lois said. "Besides, I've done the super hero bit and I don't think I was ever so happy as when I handed it back to you."

"Don't sell yourself short. You did a great job," Clark assured her.

"Not as good as you did."

"I just had more practice."

"Yeah, maybe."

Jonathan and Martha ordered room service for the four of them while Lois and Clark put Clark's new clothes away.

The undergarments had all the earmarks of Martha's practicality. Even the pajamas were practical – a small pastel geometric print bottom and white knit top. The sundresses were the only real surprise – Lois hadn't expected that Clark would be willing to wear a dress, much less a tie-died halter-top ankle length dress with bead trim.

The gender change had to be especially hard on him – he'd been Superman, for God's sake. How much more masculine could someone get?

For herself, except for a spate of ultra-femininity in high school, Lois had always been a tomboy. She had preferred trucks over Barbie dolls, jeans rather than skirts, and hanging out with the athletes who were her father's patients rather than the girls from school. Her career at the Planet had included going undercover as guys – she was lucky she was slender enough to pull it off and most people didn't look beyond the external. Women didn't have moustaches so even a fake one was enough to fool most people into thinking she was a guy. The rest was body language and attitude.

It was just hard sometimes to remember not to do the 'feminine' things she was used to, like curling up on the sofa, but she'd discovered that she could read Jonathan's reaction to when she acted out of character well enough to catch herself. In a few days she would no doubt have it down pat.

Besides, there was something very 'efficient' about being able to stand up while going pee.

But it would be nice to get back into a female body, if only so she could wear something other than trousers or jeans.

Clark had finished putting his new clothes in the dresser and sat down on the bed. The suite had two bedrooms – both with king beds and full baths – and Jonathan and Martha had already claimed one of them. That left Lois and Clark with the other bedroom and just one bed. And even though there was a marriage license, Lois didn't feel very married. At least Clark had gone through the wedding ceremony, even if it _had_ been with the wrong Lois Lane.

Lois flopped down next to Clark. "Just one bed," she said unnecessarily.

"It's a big bed," Clark said. He reached over and took her hand. It was a simple gesture, but she could feel the love coming from him.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently.

"I don't know," Clark admitted. "I've spent the last almost thirty years of my life as a guy. Now I'm a twenty-something female with Marilyn Monroe's measurements. It's a big change. I have to learn how to act the part. My balance is off, and I have no idea how women actually walk in high heels. Just getting dressed is a whole new adventure. How about you?"

"It's a little weird, like not knowing my own strength," she said. "But it's more than just the physical change. People look at me differently. As Lois, I had to push harder to get people to respect me as a person, as a journalist. I know it sounds petty, but there were times I wished I was a guy just so people would listen to my questions instead of concentrating on my boobs."

Clark managed a smile. "You did have very nice boobs."

"Not as nice as yours," Lois quipped.

There was a knock on the door. "Dinner's here," Martha called.

Over their meal Lois explained the security arrangements and Clark filled them in on the information Reed had passed on concerning the lack of information about Martin and Alexa Alexander.

"She seems pretty convinced that we're innocents that Luthor planned on using in one of his insane schemes," Clark finished.

"It helps that she's right," Lois said. "Just not in the way she thinks she is."

"Any word on the autopsies?" Martha asked.

Lois shook her head. "Not that Henderson or the ME is obligated to tell us anything. We're not members of the press. I hadn't realized exactly how much that meant to me. I miss being in the know."

"Maybe you can talk to Perry," Martha suggested. "Explain things to him so he'll give you jobs."

"Even if we had credentials and portfolios, which we don't, Perry would never hire Lex Luthor's son and daughter-in-law," Lois said.

"We could do free-lance work under assumed names," Clark suggested. "That would give us new portfolios."

"We could become private investigators," Lois said with a grin. "It's not like we don't know how."

"We'd have to hire Jimmy away from the Planet," Clark said. "I don't know anybody who's better with computers."

"You could talk to Mister Stern about buying into the paper," Jonathan said. "I hear tell there are a couple people on staff who wouldn't be there except that their parents are on the board."

"That would mean keeping the money," Clark said.

"Is that so bad?" Martha asked. "I mean, considering what he did to you, is it so bad to get compensated in some way?"

"That's money he got by being a criminal, by hurting innocent people," Clark said.

"But that doesn't mean that you two can't help people by using it well," Jonathan said. "Even Luthor supported charities and the arts."

"So everyone would feel grateful to him," Clark reminded them. "I don't think the man did anything without an ulterior motive."

"We're just saying you shouldn't make any snap judgments about keeping the money or taking control of the estate," Martha said. "Yes, Luthor did a lot of evil to get it, but that doesn't mean you can't do a lot of good by using it to help people."

"Luthor told me once in an interview that he didn't pursue money or power," Lois said thoughtfully. "He pursued pleasure and the easiest way to do that was through money and power."

"But I think he got a lot of his pleasure from exercising his power over people," Clark said. "Using his power to hurt people."

"So use his ill-gotten gains to help the people he hurt," Jonathan said.

"You think we should keep the money," Clark said with a sigh. "Despite its source."

"I think your… I think Jonathan's right," Lois said. "I think we have an enormous opportunity here, obligation even, to turn whatever Luthor's plan was on its head by taking that money and putting into places where it can do good, like bio-medical research, new clean power sources, education."

"A 'super' Superman Foundation?" Clark suggested.

"Yeah."

They talked longer, or at least until Martha announced it was time for bed. She'd been a Kansas farmer far too long to ignore the need to get up early. And that meant getting into bed at a reasonable time.

Lois decided to follow their example. A good night's sleep sounded good and she knew that tomorrow would come too soon. She could only hope that what looked so daunting under moonlight would look more manageable once the sun came up.

At least Clark wasn't dead set against taking control of Luthor's fortune. That might be one silver-lining in the dark cloud they were dealing with. If handled right, they could undo a lot of the damage Luthor had done to the people of Metropolis.


	4. Chapter 4

The sunlight from the window felt good on Lois's back. She waited to open her eyes, hoping that the dream she'd been having about Luthor and new bodies and gender switches had been just that – a horrible dream.

Then she realized her face was against a head of long blonde wavey hair and her arms were around the middle of a female body – Clark. They were spooning. It was comfortable, lying there together, her large body curling protectively around his smaller one.

Oddly, he smelled _right_. Last night they had tried to kiss before going to bed and it had felt like they were teenagers necking for the first time. Nothing fit quite right. The angles were wrong and so was the scent. Clark had always smelled of soap and fresh air and a hint of aftershave. 'Alexa' was more 'earthy' in a way Lois couldn't describe. Last night Alexa had felt 'wrong'.

But this morning… she had no idea how it happened, but this morning Clark smelled _right_ again. Maybe she was adjusting to this body. Last night, her body had definitely responded to the sight of Alexa in leggings and an off-the-shoulder top.

And it was responding again. With a groan, Lois disentangled herself from Clark and rolled out of bed. She padded over to the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony that connected the three rooms of the suite. Martha and Jonathan had the doors open to the living area and were having their morning's coffee. The coffee smelled heavenly.

The morning sun felt good. Lois wasn't a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, but today seemed to be an exception. Then she remembered that Superman had gained his powers from the sun. If she was right about having some of Superman's DNA in her cells, then she was probably solar powered as well.

"I hope there's more where that came from," Lois said, moving to join Martha and Jonathan. Martha nodded to the room service cart just inside.

Lois fixed herself a cup and rejoined Martha and Jonathan in watching the city waking up beneath them. Since the suite was just one floor below the penthouse, they had a spectacular view.

"Sleep well?" Martha asked.

Lois nodded, sipping the hot bitter brew. "Cl… Alexa's still asleep."

"No, I'm right here," Clark said. His hair was tousled and he'd thrown a simple robe over his pajamas. He looked utterly adorable.

"Coffee?" he asked. Again Martha simply pointed to the room service cart.

Lois watched as Clark fixed himself a cup and came back out onto the balcony. He had looked a little wan last night, but now he seemed to be almost glowing in the morning light.

"Ready for a busy day?" Jonathan asked.

"The first of many, I don't doubt," Clark said. He was scratching at the bandage under his top.

"Does that need to be changed?" Martha asked.

Clark shrugged. "It just started itching."

"But no pain or anything?" Martha insisted.

"No, it just itches."

Martha went over to him and pulled off the dressing. Her eyes widened and Lois moved closer to see what was going on. Clark's wound was almost completely healed. In fact, as she watched, the wound completely vanished, leaving only unblemished skin.

"Um, you haven't had any unusual cravings, have you?" Lois asked him.

Clark shook his head. "And no cravings for _doppelbuffo _frogs, either."

"But normal humans don't heal that fast," Jonathan reminded them.

"No, they don't," Clark agreed worriedly.

"Well, we're already planning to talk to Klein and Hamilton over at STAR Labs," Lois reminded them. "Maybe they'll have a clue as to what's going on. I can't imagine Mamba risking giving Luthor a less than perfect female to play with."

"Unless it was a way to get back at Luthor, or the accelerated growth process isn't as perfect as Mamba told Luthor," Clark said.

"Or the wound wasn't as bad as it looked," Martha suggested. "Or you just naturally heal quickly…"

"Well, we won't know anything until we talk to Klein and Hamilton and find out what they know," Lois said. "And before we do that, we need to check with Henderson on Lola's murder, and get your papers and luggage."

"And while you two do that, Jonathan and I will be making arrangements to pack up Clark's apartment and…" Martha's voice trailed off. She took a shuddery breath. "…and arranging his funeral. We need to talk to the Lanes and see what they want to do, if they want to have a joint service here in Metropolis, if they're looking at a burial or cremation… Do we consider the kids married or not? And if so, do they end up here or in Smallville?"

"It's a horrible thing, burying your child," Jonathan said. "It's just plain wrong. And knowing you're not actually dead doesn't really make it any easier. We still have to go through all the arrangements, make all the decisions… unless you happened to make a funeral plan for yourself when you made out your will."

"My… Clark's will just says that everything goes to you guys except for a couple bequests," Clark said. "There's Jimmy and Rachel and a couple charities. I… _he_ didn't really have that much."

"Neither did Lois," Lois said. "I guess they thought they had time to worry about things like that."

"Which reminds me," Clark said. "On that list of things we need to get done ASAP, maybe an estate lawyer should be on that list."

Lois agreed.

Breakfast was quiet. Martha and Jonathan were dealing with Clark's 'death' with somber dignity. In all the confusion Lois was embarrassed to admit she had forgotten for the moment that as far as the world was concerned, Lois Lane and Clark Kent were dead and so was Superman.

Jonathan had left copy of the Daily Planet on the room service cart. Lois picked it up and started reading. It was strange not to see Lane and Kent as front page bylines. It was sobering to realize their names would never be on a byline ever again.

_World Mourns as City Prepares to Bury Its Hero_. Perry's name was on the article. A second article had the headline 'Police Confirm Clark Kent NOT Superman'. The article was simply attributed to 'staff' but Lois detected Perry's writing there, too. 'Witnesses have told police investigators that Clark Kent was seen entering the building above Luthor's bunker several minutes prior to Superman's arrival,' the article said. It went on to say that other reports indicated that there was strong evidence that Luthor shot and killed Kent using the same super weapon that was used to kill Lois Lane and Superman. The last few paragraphs described Clark's journalistic career and his engagement to Lois Lane.

"It looks like the city is going all out for him," Clark said, reading over her shoulder.

"He saved a lot of people," Lois said. "He was a symbol for compassion and justice and doing what's right. And he was cut down by a greedy, vicious, egotistical madman." Lois chuckled harshly. "Luthor wanted to be remembered by history as a philanthropist and brilliant businessman. Instead he'll go down as the man who murdered Superman."

Clark nodded to the clock on the wall. "We'd better get moving if we're get down to One-P-P before the traffic gets crazy."

"You first," Lois said. "I'm not budging until I've had more coffee."

Lois savored her coffee and blueberry muffin, watching the time until she was reasonably certain Clark was finished with the shower. That was just one more they were going to have to get used to and not just because of the gender change. Even as Lois and Clark they hadn't shared bathrooms all that often and now to do it on a daily basis – that was going to take time.

Lois walked into their bedroom to find Clark wrapped in a terrycloth robe glaring at his reflection as he tugged at a comb in his hair.

"This is ridiculous," he complained. "I can't even get a comb through this."

"That's because you're using the wrong comb," Lois said, stifling an unmasculine giggle.

Lois grabbed the comb away from him and began untangling the blonde hair with her fingers. It took only a minute or so to deal with the tangles out and get his hair brushed out. "I used to do this for Lucy when we were little," Lois explained.

"Maybe I should get it cut off," Clark suggested.

"You don't like a Farrah Fawcett look?"

"It looks fine on Farrah Fawcett," he said. "I'm just not sure I can handle it."

Lois chuckled as she pinned his hair into a chignon. "There, business elegant." She inspected her own face in the mirror. Her chin and cheeks were rough with blond beard even if it didn't show much. It was a little disconcerting. "You have to worry about hair while I have to worry about shaving," she complained.

"Hopefully invulnerability hasn't kicked in yet," Clark said. "Otherwise you'll have to wait for heat vision to come in and I'm not sure how the management will feel about scorch marks in the bathroom."

"Maybe I should just grow a beard," Lois suggested jokingly.

Clark gave her a serious look. "This thing is weird enough as it is. I'm not kissing a guy with a beard."

Lois put her head next to his and gazed at both reflections in the mirror. "We will get through this you know. He isn't going to win. We won't let him."

"I though I was the optimist here," Clark said.

"You don't have a monopoly on it."

It didn't take long for Lois to get ready. It wasn't too hard to choose what to wear when your choices were simply casual or business. White shirt, khaki trousers, blue blazer, no tie. Luckily she'd been able to shave her face with the electric razor in the shave kit Luthor had prepared even though the razor seemed to be straining towards the end.

One of O'Brien's men accompanied Lois and Clark down to the car where a driver was waiting. Lois knew their itinerary was a little loose for the security men's liking but it couldn't be helped.

First stop, One Police Plaza and Bill Henderson's office. Lois ignored the stares at her and Clark as they crossed the squad room. One thing she had learned as a reporter – people usually didn't ask if you belonged there if you acted like you had every right to be there.

"I thought I'd see you two this morning," Henderson by way of greeting as they entered his office.

"We thought we'd see if there was anything more on why Morris killed Lola," Clark said.

"And if you guys have anything more on Lois Lane's murder," Lois added.

"Reed and Wilkerson should be back in a while," Henderson said. "You two do realize you shouldn't even be up here, right?" He gave Clark a hard look. "And I should run you in for corrupting Reed. All she could talk about this morning was taking you shopping at Victoria's Secret."

"Blame Mrs. Kent," Clark said. "She started it. So… anything you _can_ tell us?"

"The preliminary toxicology report on Lane indicates she was pumped full of psychotropics and things the DEA is more than a little interested in tracking down." He chuckled drily. "Hell even dead, Lane opens up cans of worms."

"Who's handling it for the DEA?" Clark asked.

"A fellow by the name of Dan Scardino," Henderson said. "From what I hear, he was a friend of Lois's before she finally got together with Kent."

Although Lois wanted to ask more about the toxicology report, and the DEA's involvement, she knew that now was not the time. Lola's death was a more pressing matter. Besides, she knew that Dan Scardino was a bit of a sore issue with Clark.

"Did you get anything from Morris on why he opened fire?" Lois asked.

Henderson sat back in his chair. "What he said didn't make a lot of sense. He was going off on how she was an abomination, an affront to God and he was doing God's work in ridding the world of her."

"He was a religious fanatic?" Lois asked.

"Not until he was arrested," Henderson said. "My gut tells me he was well coached, but my gut is all we have since Morris died of an apparent heart attack only an hour after he was booked into central holding."

"Resurrection drug?" Clark asked.

"Well, if it was he's going to have a real unpleasant surprise when he wakes up after the autopsy," Henderson said. "And Morris's death is the other reason Scardino's involved. He was the one tracking down 'Resurrection'."

"I thought Lane and Kent broke that case," Clark said.

Henderson chuckled. "I'm sure they figured prominently in his reports. Which reminds me…" He looked around his desktop for something then picked up a business card. He handed it to Lois. "That's the attorney who's handling what's left of Luthor's estate. He wants to see you at your earliest convenience."

Lois read the card. 'Lawrence Jennings, Attorney at Law.' The address was in one of the near-by high rises.

"Pricey address," Lois commented. "Is he on the up and up?"

"He's a lawyer," Henderson said with a shrug. "Handles corporation and tax law mostly. Word on the street is that he's okay, so I guess not all corporate attorneys are well-educated scumbags."

"He's on retainer for the Superman Foundation," Clark said. "He does a lot of pro bono consulting for charities. But I didn't know he was associated with Luthor."

"He may not be," Henderson said. "But you won't know how he's involved until you talk to him."

There was a knock on the door and a man in an eye-watering Hawaiian shirt walked in without waiting for permission – Dan Scardino. "You were right," he said to Henderson. "We found traces of Resurrection in Morris's tissues."

"But…?" Henderson prompted.

"But not enough to bring him back," Scardino said. "And it certainly didn't help that the stuff was mixed with poison."

"So he thought he had a get-out-of-jail-free card that wasn't," Clark said.

Scardino finally seemed to notice Lois and Clark standing there, although he had no way of knowing who they really were. Scardino carefully looked Clark up and down and Lois had to fight down the urge to knock him flat. Was that what Clark had felt when Scardino was chasing after her? No wonder he had acted so weird around Dan.

Henderson made the introductions.

"Alexander?" Scardino repeated. "Luthor's hidden away, never heard of before, son and heir?"

"I can't say much about that, having never met the man," Lois said. She tried to recall what she had found attractive about Scardino last year. Maybe it was simply that he had paid attention to her at a time when Clark hadn't been. Now he just seemed loud and obnoxious.

"But isn't that what the papers are saying?" Scardino insisted.

"They may be saying it, but he never acted the part and I certainly wouldn't have chosen him to be my father," Lois stated.

"Actually," Clark put in, "there are some schools of thought that say that people _do_ choose their parents…"

Lois glared at him. "Trust me on this one. Lex Luthor is the last man on earth I would have chosen for my father."

-o-o-o-

"Well, STAR Labs or Jennings next?" Lois asked when they got back to the car, guard in tow.

"STAR Labs," Clark answered. He leaned close to her ear. "If it turns out I'm a fourteen day wonder, then I want to know about it as soon as possible," he murmured low enough that only she could hear it.

"You really think Mamba would have done something like that to Luthor?" Lois asked, keeping her own voice low.

"What other explanation is there?"

"I don't know."

The car stopped and Clark looked around at the traffic. It was at a near stand still. They'd be faster getting out and walking the several miles to STAR Labs

"Look, Jenning's office is just over there," Lois said, "We may as well get it over with. By then the traffic should be clear and we can go to STAR Labs."

"Yeah, I guess an hour or so won't make much difference," Clark agreed reluctantly.

Jenning's office was as Clark remembered – understatedly elegant. A perfectly groomed receptionist ushered them though as soon as they announced themselves. Bob, their security man, settled into one of the leather chairs by the reception area door.

Jennings himself hadn't changed much since Clark had seen him last either. He was a little over average height with dark hair brushed with gray. His gray suit was impeccably tailored, silk tie done to utter perfection. The tie cost more than one of Clark's suits – former suits. No doubt his mom was already packing them up for charity.

Clark brought his attention to the matter at hand.

"Inspector Henderson told us you were handling Luthor's estate," Lois was saying. Jennings simply nodded, seemingly unworried by Lois's flat statement.

"Mister Luthor contacted me while he was still in prison. In fact, it was just a few days before his release on the bogus pardon," Jennings explained. "I'm not a criminal lawyer but I went to see him mostly out of curiosity. He gave me a copy of his newest will to be notarized and registered and gave me instructions on where to find certain items and documents he wanted held and passed on to his heir."

"And in return, you got?" Clark prompted.

"In return I was given the location of certain personally important documents that I had been looking for," Jennings said.

"So, now what do we do?"

"I need to verify that you are who you say you are," Jennings said. "He gave me certain questions to ask based on information you would have gotten only from him."

"So, what are the questions?" Lois.

"The first question is: what were the names he wanted for his children?"

"Isn't that the same question Jaxon Xavier wanted answered?" Clark asked. "Before he fried his brain and ended up in a nursing home?"

"Yeah, that's the same question, the pass code to the LexCorp mainframe," Lois said. "The oldest would be named Alexis, then either Roxanne, or Alex, and the third would be named Lynx. He liked X-es. He wanted his kids to have an X in their names."

"And the fourth one, assuming there was one?" Jennings asked.

"I think that depended on who the mother was going to be," Lois said. "But since he was already planning to kidnap Lois Lane… Clark. The fourth child would have been named Clark."

Jennings nodded but Clark couldn't tell if he was pleased with Lois's answer or not. "Did he have any other children?" Jennings asked.

"Supposedly Jaxon Xavier was his, but Luthor never acknowledged him," Lois answered. "Other than that… Luthor once said he'd had a child, a boy, but he and the mother were killed in a car accident when the child was very young."

Jennings nodded once. "One final question. What was Missus Cox's first name?"

"Missus Cox?" Lois repeated. But this question Clark knew the answer to.

"Josephine," Clark answered. "She was an actress at one time."

Jennings nodded again and stepped over to one of the modern paintings on the office wall. At his touch, the painting slid aside to reveal a wall safe. After a moment, the safe opened and Jennings pulled out small case about the size of a shoe box and a manila envelope.

"I don't know what's in the box," Jennings said. "And I don't want to know. The envelope contains dossiers on both of you as well as a list of overseas properties in various names."

"He had dossiers on us?" Clark asked.

"Mister Luthor was a rather disturbed individual. Apparently he had dossiers made up on everyone he came into contact with, including his less savory liaisons. Which, by the way, included Mister Xavier's mother. As to Xavier's claim that he was Luthor's illegitimate child… I'm not breaking any confidences by telling you that it's extremely unlikely that Luthor ever fathered any children, at least not naturally. He was sterile, probably due to exposure to chemicals during his early career."

"Then how do explain that he claimed me as his son?" Lois asked.

Jennings actually smiled. "Wishful thinking?" He held out his hand and Lois shook it. "If you need any assistance in setting up legitimate companies, just call."

Clark followed Lois out of the office. He could tell she was just itching to open the box to see what was inside it. But the hallway outside Jennings's office wasn't the place for it.

"How did you know about her?" Lois asked, tucking the envelope under her arm and cradling the box to her chest.

"I saw her at the Lyceum in London," Clark answered. "Her name was Josephine Leslie-Cox then. My high school French club managed to raise enough money for a group of us to visit Paris and London for two weeks."

"You never told you knew about her," Lois commented.

"I never made the connection until I saw her after she turned state's evidence against Luthor," Clark said. "By that time it was a little late to mention that I'd seen her play Mary Magdalene just before her husband was killed."

Once in the car, Lois opened the box. Clark watched as she went through the box. A few old photographs of a young boy and a younger girl, a lock of reddish hair, a worn baseball, a few newspaper clippings.

"It looks like a keepsake box," Clark said. "Like a kid keeps his treasures in." He took one of the photos from Lois. There was something eerily familiar about the boy. He turned the photo over and read the back. "Lena and Lex," he read. "No date."

Lois picked up the clippings. "Girl's death ruled accidental," she read aloud. "Lena Alexa Luthor… Lex's sister. I didn't know he even had a sister. According to this she died of injuries sustained in a fall when she was ten."

"Somehow I doubt it was that simple," Clark said. He picked up a different clipping. "Tragedy strikes family again," Clark read. "Exactly one year after their daughter's accidental death, a fatal car accident on Highway 57 claims the lives of Jules and Arlene Luthor… They are survived by their son Alexander, age fourteen…"

"We knew his parents died when he was young and he'd always admitted that their life insurance paid for his education and gave him the seed money to start his first business," Lois said. "But it's kind of sad that this is all he had left of his family, his childhood. Do you think he would have been a better person if his parents had lived?"

"Only if you think the sister really died of an accident. Or his parents," Clark responded. He put the photos and clippings back in the box and closed the lid.

"What do you think we should do with this?"

"Keep it somewhere safe," Clark said. "Who knows, it might be important someday."

The traffic had cleared so it took little time to get to STAR Labs.

Security was at an unusually high level due to a break-in and attack on lab employees less than a week before and the fact that Superman's body was still undergoing post mortem examination at the facility. STAR Labs management didn't want to take the risk of the body disappearing or being tampered with.

In fact, it took the offer of a million dollar grant and information on the break in to get Bernard Klein's attention.

"You said you knew something about the two items that went missing during the break in?" Klein began. He didn't even bother to introduce himself.

"Two metal canisters about a foot in diameter and about two feet tall," Lois said. "They were in the main vault, even though they probably shouldn't have been." Lois looked around the lobby. "Is there somewhere more private we can talk?"

"My office," Klein offered, leading the way.

Klein's office was just as messy as Jenning's office had been neat and elegant. The desk – in fact every flat surface – was covered in papers and books. Clark looked for a place to sit but the one 'guest' chair was loaded with scientific journals of all sorts.

"Do you know where the canisters are?" Klein asked. "They contained potentially dangerous biological material and it's important we get them back unopened."

"The canisters came from Isaac Mamba's cloning lab and contained genetically modified human embryos. One male and one female," Lois stated. "They were stolen by Lex Luthor with a little help from someone working here."

"Do you know where they are?" Klein asked.

"You're looking at them," Clark said.

Klein's mouth dropped opened as he looked them up and down. After a moment he found his voice. "And you're healthy? No gross physical defects, nutrition issues, cravings for frogs, anything like that?"

"Only unusual strength and hearing so far for me," Lois answered. "And she heals unnaturally fast."

Klein's expression turned thoughtful. "Would you say 'super' strength?"

"Maybe," Lois admitted.

Klein's eyes seemed to focus on some point far away. "That might explain the odd mitochondria and unusual organelles… I thought they looked familiar…"

"Do you think maybe Mamba got hold of some of Superman's DNA and incorporated it into… _us_?" Clark asked.

"DNA alone wouldn't do it," Klein said. He seemed lost in his own world. "He had to have had complete cell samples and…"

"And what, Doctor Klein?" Clark prompted.

"And the only known cell cultures where here," Klein said slowly. "Only I think some of them disappeared about six months ago."

"And you didn't tell Superman?" Clark asked.

"I couldn't be sure at the time," Klein admitted. "My lab assistant claimed that two of the samples had become contaminated and so he destroyed them. At least that's what he said."

"But now you think they were stolen and he was trying to cover it up?" Lois asked.

Klein gave her a perplexed look. "You know, you sound a lot like someone I know…" He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "But it makes sense… Copies of Mamba's research notes were turned over to us for analysis after his arrest. Now don't get me wrong, Mamba was a brilliant scientist, but his notes were a little on the cryptic side. Even Hamilton had trouble making sense of them and he was first one I know of to clone a human and bring it to maturity at an accelerated rate. But Mamba seemed to have licked the accelerated cellular breakdown problem by using something he called 'X' which he acquired not long after the Superman cell samples disappeared."

"So you think he incorporated Superman's DNA into his clones to make them live longer?" Clark asked. "But Superman was an alien. Would that even work?"

"Well, Superman's DNA isn't really all that different from a human's," Klein explained. "The main difference is in the rest of his cell structure. He has – had – an extra type of organelle that I think acted as a battery or energy convertor. And I'm not altogether convinced it wasn't artificially engineered. But this little bugger was what I believe created his bioelectric field which gave him some of his special abilities, including accelerated healing."

"And so the accelerated healing created by these organelles could counter the accelerated cellular breakdown?" Clark asked. He wasn't completely sure he understood what Klein was saying, but that did seem to make the best sense.

Klein bobbed his head in agreement.

"Now, if we can just get down to my lab so I can get some cell samples from you, then I can confirm my hypothesis," Klein said, heading for the door. He seemed to expect them to follow him.

With a sigh Clark trailed after him and after a moment Lois hurried to catch up with them.

Klein swapped the insides of their cheeks and then they watched as he prepared slides and put them under a microscope. He mumbled to himself as he examined the slides. "Yes… ah hah, yes…"

"And the verdict is?" Clark asked.

Klein looked up as if surprised they were still there. "Oh, yes. It looks like you both have the same extra organelles I found in Superman's cells. I'd have to sequence your mitochondrial DNA to see if it matches his mitochondria, which I suspect it does…"

"So my accelerated healing is not because I'm one of Mamba's short-lived versions?" Clark asked.

"Oh no," Klein assured him. "It's because, functionally, you're related to Superman on his mother's side. But what I don't understand is how you have a fully developed personality. I've met Mamba's other creations and they all seemed rather… childish, if not downright disturbed. You seem more like one of Hamilton's clones."

"You're saying that Dillinger and Capone weren't 'disturbed' when they tried to take over Metropolis last year?" Lois asked.

"Oh, no," Klein protested. "I'm simply saying that Dillinger and Capone and the others all appeared to have fully developed personalities, unlike the president's clone or Miss Lane's clone. In fact, the Dillinger and Capone clones had personality structures uncannily similar to the originals, as near as we could tell."

"And how do you explain that?" Clark asked.

"I can't," Klein admitted. "Although Doctor Hamilton claims that since all his creations had originally died violently, their disincarnate consciousnesses were drawn to their recreated bodies so they could finish the work they had left undone on Earth due to their violent demise."

"Do you believe that?" Lois asked.

"I don't know," Klein admitted. "As a scientist, I believe that any workable theory must be able to present viable methods to allow it to be tested and possibly disproven. His hypothesis cannot be tested in any rigorous fashion. But then, Emil is drawn to more esoteric ideas than I am. Maybe it's because he spent so much time around those mystic mumbo jumbo types at LexLabs while he was working there."

"You wouldn't have a name for any of those mumbo jumbo types over at LexLabs, would you, Doctor Klein?" Lois asked sweetly. Again Klein frowned as though trying to place a memory.

"Ashcroft? Asia? …Asabi. Yeah. Gupta Asabi," Klein said, scratching his ear. "Emil said he was an expert on soul transference and past lives. He claimed that this fellow could even exchange consciousness with anyone he came into contact with."

"Is that even possible?" Lois asked. Clark knew she had to have been asking the question for effect – they both knew perfectly well that it was possible. They were living proof.

"Well, I admit that Emil is sometimes a little more gullible than the rest of us here," Klein said with a smile. "But there _was_ something uncanny about those clones of his."


	5. Chapter 5

It seemed that Klein was finished talking to them – his body was in the room with them but his mind was somewhere else completely. Maybe even another planet.

Lois knew he was a busy man and didn't need her and Clark taking up more of his valuable time. He'd already mentally dismissed them. She headed for the door then turned back, almost running in to Clark, as she remembered another question.

"Doctor Klein," Lois said. "You said that Mamba was using Superman's energy thingees…"

"Organelles," Clark corrected.

She glared at him then continued, "…organelles in creating his long-lived clones. What would keep them from developing his powers as well?"

It took a moment for Klein to respond. He was obviously _very_ far away – instead of another planet, make that another galaxy.

Then he frowned in thought. "Mamba's notes weren't as specific as they could have been but based on his notes and what I know about Superman's powers… The enhanced physical and sensory abilities require a far larger number of the power organelles than would be needed to simply stabilize the hyper fast cellular division required to bring a clone to maturity in only a few days. I also think that developing and controlling the powers requires more than just the special organelles. It requires specific Kryptonian genes and specific variations in the mitochondria."

"Then how did Jesse Stipanovic acquire Superman-like powers if it requires special mitochondria and organelles?" Clark asked.

"And Ultrawoman and Resplendent Man?" Lois chimed in.

"The incident with the Stipanovic boy indicated that Superman's bioelectric field could be transferred by a strong enough electric charge and the field would be self-sustaining, at least on the short term, even without the transfer of the organelles," Klein said. "And physical contact between Superman and the other person during or shortly after the transfer, well, that allowed organelles to be transferred as well, making the field longer lasting. But with the Stipanovic boy the DNA changes were unstable and the organelles appeared to go dormant when the DNA reverted to human normal… Does that make sense in English?"

"Yes, I think so," Clark said. "The power transfers were strictly temporary because it requires multiple systems to maintain."

"Which was probably a good thing," Lois added, "considering the type of people who wanted to steal his powers."

"Ultrawoman?" Klein asked.

"He lucked out on that one," Clark said. "Do you know how many of the type A's Mamba created?"

"His notes weren't clear, but I suspect he wasn't as successful as he told potential clients he was."

"So we're his only successes?" Lois asked.

Klein nodded. "That we know of. Out of all the canisters we found in his lab, only two had viable type A embryos in them. And they both carried both the power organelles and Kryptonian DNA in their cells."

"Will they – we – develop powers like Superman?" Clark asked.

Klein shrugged. "Based on Mamba's notes, his key client wanted the male to have powers, although I will give Mamba a little credit for not thinking it was a good idea."

"But Mamba went ahead and gave the male powers anyway?" Lois asked.

"So it would appear. But it looks like the female has the same number of organelles in her cells."

"So, why aren't I showing any signs of having powers?" Clark asked. Lois could tell he was annoyed and frustrated with the whole situation. But it was an annoying and frustrating situation.

"Maybe you were exposed to kryptonite," Klein suggested, "or maybe you haven't had enough sun, or maybe Mamba left out some crucial bit of DNA that would allow you to develop powers. I don't know."

"You have samples of our DNA," Clark reminded him. "If you have time, maybe you could take a look?"

"It'll take a little time for a full analysis," Klein said. "And don't worry. I'll keep it confidential." He gave them another appraising look and Lois wondered exactly how much of his apparent obliviousness was just an act. "Assuming Hamilton was right about the soul transfer stuff," Klein said, "…who _were_ you?"

Lois glanced at Clark. He nodded once. "He _was _Superman's personal physician," Clark said.

Lois took a deep breath before responding to Klein's question. "Three days ago I was Lois Lane. And she was Clark Kent."

"I should be surprised," Klein said. "But I'm not. There is just something so familiar about you. We should have lunch sometime and you can tell me all about it. It sounds fascinating."

Clark was very quiet as they made their way back to the lobby.

"Penny for your thoughts," Lois said.

"I don't think they're worth that much," Clark admitted. "I was just thinking that Luthor did it to us again. He killed Superman and commissioned a body for himself so he would be the only one with those abilities."

"We don't know that for certain," Lois said. "And a walk in the park to catch some rays after lunch doesn't sound that bad. And maybe when Hamilton's free we can ask him about that soul transference thing."

"Pity we can't just walk into Central Holding and talk to Asabi," Clark said. "That is assuming he's still there. If he really does have the abilities Hamilton told people about, then there's no reason to believe he hasn't escaped and some poor sap is sitting there in a cell trying to figure out what happened."

"Maybe Henderson will let us see him," Lois suggested. "But we haven't had a chance to get phones yet, so I can't just call him."

"Another thing to add to our ever lengthening to-do list."

Bob spotted them crossing the lobby and hurried to catch up with them. Lois asked to borrow his phone and she keyed in Henderson's personal number from memory.

After a surprisingly short conversation she hung up. "We can see him right after lunch," she told Clark.

"That's a surprise," Clark commented.

"Asabi has asked the police for protection," she said. "He's afraid someone wants to steal his soul. But _he's _asked to talk to _us_."

"Any idea why?"

Lois shook her head. "Henderson didn't say except that we have a two o'clock appointment to talk to Asabi."

It was just possible the answers they needed were only a few hours away. It was going to be a long time till two-o'clock.

They stopped at one of Lois's favorite delis, Benny's. It wasn't far from the Daily Planet and was just across from Centennial Park. Lois sipped her iced teas and watched out the front window as trucks drove into the park laden with pre-fabricated building parts.

"Superman's mausoleum," the server answered when asked what was going on in the park. "Funeral's in two days. I hear the fire and police departments have been fighting over which one will do the honors. I've also heard that the mayor told the president he was welcome to come to the services, but they were going to be held in Metropolis and he better not forget it."

"President Garner's not such a bad guy," Clark said.

"He was replaced by a clone with the IQ of a zucchini and nobody noticed," the server, Mario, scoffed.

Lois couldn't help chuckling. Mario really did have the right of it. President Garner had been replaced by one of Mamba's clones and no one really noticed until he started back-pedaling on legislation he had made campaign promises on and had worked hard and long to pass. Legislation Lois knew that Luthor had been violently opposed to. But then, Luthor had objected to any politician that couldn't be bought and paid for. Garner may not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was one of a rare breed – an honest politician. Or maybe Luthor simply hadn't been able to afford Garner's price.

Luckily for Garner, Lane, Kent, and Superman had come to the president's rescue – but not before the clone had granted Luthor's request for his criminal convictions to be pardoned. If Luthor had been in prison where he belonged, maybe Lois and Clark would be on their honeymoon in their own bodies rather than trying to figure out what to do with new ones.

At least Bennie's sandwiches were as good as always. Lois loved their pastrami on onion roll and she knew Clark liked their honey roasted turkey with cranberry cream sauce on sourdough. Sweet coleslaw and kosher dill pickles completed the meal. Lois adored their double chocolate cheesecake and split a piece with Clark. It was amazing how much she could taste in the cake. The chocolate, the vanilla – Bennie's used real vanilla in their cheesecake and real chocolate – eggs, cream cheese. It was phenomenal.

"I wonder how much I'm going to have to spend at the gym to keep this from landing on my… wherever," Lois said.

"If Klein is right, I don't think you need to worry about the gym ever again," Clark reminded her.

"Did their cheesecake always taste like this?"

"Yeah," Clark said. "I don't think they've changed their recipe since… ever."

"It's like I can taste… everything. I don't remember things tasting like this last time… when you know…"

"Maybe you were too busy to notice," Clark said. "It was a big responsibility put on you all of a sudden. And a lot of pressure."

"I couldn't just do nothing," Lois reminded him. Lois's stint as Ultrawoman had left her with an appreciation of Superman's job that no one else truly shared. Helping others when no one else could had been exhilarating and mind-boggling. Having to choose which emergencies needed her presence had been heart rending. And failures – she had broken into tears more than once during those few days over nameless people she hadn't been fast enough or smart enough to save. She still wasn't exactly sure how Clark survived the failures. A lesser man would have been destroyed.

But Lois didn't remember her senses of taste, smell, and touch being as acute then as they were now. She took another bite of the cheese cake. The flavor fairly exploded in her mouth.

"When you first woke up in the hospital, how did you feel?" Lois asked.

Clark's expression turned thoughtful. "Like everything was muffled. It's been slowly getting more 'normal'."

"Maybe Klein was right and Luthor did do something to you," Lois suggested. "I mean, he was planning on it being Lois Lane in that body. He had to have had some plan to keep her bullied into submission once the transfer was completed."

"After everything, he didn't believe he could get her to love him?"

"He did everything he could to keep her confused and make her think she was a hunted criminal and he was her only choice," Lois said. "Who do you think broke into STAR Labs with him that night? And he wanted her to commit murder for him. He only did it himself when she refused."

"I should never have let you go with him," Clark said.

"I don't think you had much of a choice," Lois told him. "He was holding all the cards and was willing to kill innocent people to get what he wanted. Superman couldn't risk endangering all of Metropolis for one person, not even me. And Luthor would have started killing. We both know that. He had his escape plan and he didn't care who he hurt because he would never have to face the consequences of his actions."

Clark was playing with his straw in the remaining ice in his glass.

"What's wrong?" Lois asked.

"What happens if Asabi doesn't have a fix for us?" Clark asked.

"He has to," Lois said as though it was obvious.

"But if he doesn't?"

Lois took his hands in hers. "Honey, you know how I get when I want to fix something..."

"Well, first you eat a lot of chocolate while you figure out your next move..."

Lois grinned and pointed to the empty plate of double chocolate cheesecake. There weren't even any crumbs left.

"Check. Then you get that real determined look... Sort of like now. And then... the seas part," he said.

"So you know the drill," Lois said. "You and I have come through almost every conceivable disaster, usually through inconceivable means. So, obviously, if we're going to get through this, we're gonna have to be fearless once again."

"The only thing I've ever been afraid of is saying 'no' to you, and I'm not starting now," Clark said softly. She suspected he was only half joking. "Do you think we have time to order some Death by Chocolate Mousse? You're not the only one with a craving for chocolate. I never really understood your addiction to chocolate before now."

Lois chuckled. "Food of the gods."

There was a commotion at the front door. Bob the bodyguard had hold of Leo Nunc.

"Hey, you can't do that," Nunc was protesting as they hurried over. "I'm a reporter. You happen to know about a little thing called the First Amendment?"

"'Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof or abridging the freedom of speech or of the press or…'" Bob quoted.

"What about the part saying I got the right to do whatever I want 'cause I'm a reporter?" Nunk demanded.

"Luckily that part has never been written," Clark said in a saccharinely sweet tone. It was odd hearing Clark's familiar 'ready to zing' tone in a woman's vocal register. "Mister Nunc, has it gotten boring harassing dead people who can't defend themselves?"

Nunc didn't answer.

"So you think following lil' ol' us will add a little more excitement to your life?" Clark asked.

"You've had a real busy morning already," Nunc said. "The cops, Jennings, STAR Labs?"

"And you think this concerns you?" Lois asked.

"Luthor's long lost kid is news," Nunc said. "My readers have the right to know what he's doing in town."

"Well, tell your readers that Luthor's long lost son is just trying to come to terms with the fact that dear old dad was a psycho killer," Clark said. Then he leaned close. "Of course, if you do say anything more than that, I'm sure the Virginia police and a certain Marvin McEnry will be pleased to know the whereabouts of one Leon Nunkhammer. And I'm sure your readers will be fascinated to know their favorite reporter is a convicted sex offender who forgot to register in Metropolis."

Nunc actually paled. "You can't prove anything."

Clark's smile was positively beatific. "Can't I?"

Nunc untangled himself from Bob's grip. "You haven't seen the last of me," he said as he hurried away.

Bob seemed impressed. "I take back every stupid blonde joke I was thinking about you."

"How did you know about Nunkhammer?" Lois asked. That bit of information had always been her ace in the hole concerning Nunc.

"Know thine enemy," Clark said with a grin. "And as for the blonde jokes… well, the dumb blonde act worked wonders for Mindy Church. Even her stepson never quite figured out what happened. Besides, natural blondes know it's really the peroxide that kills the brain cells."

-o-o-o-

Clark chuckled at Lois's expression at his paraphrasing of one of his mom's favorite expressions – 'Beauty may be only skin deep but peroxide kills the brain.' Martha Kent had never been one to color her hair to hide her age. 'I earned every one of these. And I am _not_ turning gray. God is turning me blonde one hair at a time,' she frequently told her husband and son.

_Mom and Dad_.

They didn't have a son any more.

Bob was saying something and Clark turned his attention back to Lois and Bob. "Is it true that Nunc person has a record in Virginia?"

"Let's just say that Leo Nunc bears an uncanny resemblance to one Leon Nunkhammer who was convicted of statutory rape for having a physical relationship with a thirteen year old girl. She claimed it was consensual, the court and her family saw differently. Then she got pregnant and he disappeared," Lois said.

"Look, I have to turn this in," Bob said. "If that guy really is who you think he is…"

Clark had looked into Nunc's past the first time he had run into the sleaze ball. Clark had debated with himself over letting the MPD know what he suspected about the Inquisitor's top reporter. Obviously Lois had found the same information and kept quiet for the same reasons. But suspicion wasn't the same as proof and having possible hold over Nunc was a little more important at the time that turning an unscrupulous journalist over to the authorities. Plus Clark had considered that there was the remote possibility that Nunc wasn't Nunkhammer.

However the reporter's reaction to Nunkhammer's name had made a lie of that notion. And Bob was a retired cop.

Clark nodded. "Take your time. We need to go over some papers before heading over to Central Holding anyway." He turned to Lois. "We may as well check out the other stuff Jennings gave us before we go."

"I've been afraid to," Lois admitted. But she followed as he headed back to the table. Luckily Bennie had realized they weren't finished and hadn't had the table cleared.

Clark opened the envelope and pulled out the contents – two file folders one marked Martin and the other Alexa. He handed the 'Martin' folder to Lois.

"Another one of his lies," Lois muttered. "He asked me what I wanted to be after the switch, a European countess, South American horsewoman, a Russian poet. The last was a joke I'm sure, but something about poetry, about writing, struck a chord. Now it turns out it was all a joke. He had everything planned out and I had no choice at all."

Clark sorted through the sheets in Alexa's file. "'I' was a B and C student at Wellesley. Majored in English." He sorted through more of the sheets. "'A' student in high school in Boston and get this, father was Samuel A. Parker, a plastic surgeon. Both parents and younger sister killed in a DUI accident while 'I' was in my freshman year at school. Wife, Eleanor, was driving. Sister's name was 'Lucinda'."

"That's just freaky, but it explains the grades, I guess," Lois commented. "I assume you graduated."

"By the skin of my teeth, apparently. This says I met 'you' in Europe after graduation while I was frittering away my inheritance on wild parties and such."

"Luthor wasn't about to give me an even break," Lois muttered. "Orphaned party girl from Podunk that Lex Junior took pity on?"

"I wouldn't go that far, but yeah," Clark said. "Not exactly a stellar academic record and no employment record at all. Alexa would have a hard time getting a job washing dishes. What about Junior?"

"'A' student at Harvard Business School. Has his MBA," Lois read. "Had a promise of employment with LexCorp but then the you-know-what hit the fan so he went traveling for a while and met party girl Barbie."

"What about his parents?" Clark asked.

"Well, we know what the birth certificate says," Lois reminded him. "But… he was raised by Julian and Margot Alexander. Julian worked for LexCorp Canada. Julian and Margot died… in a car accident… while Martin was in Europe."

"So we're supposed to believe that Lex Luthor's child by Gretchen Kelley was not only born in British Columbia but given at birth to a LexCorp employee and his wife?" Clark asked.

Lois shrugged. "That's what this says. This certainly gives the impression that Gretchen had a child and gave it away without telling the father, even though Luthor's name is on the birth certificate. I guess we're supposed to assume that Julian and Margot had no idea who the child they had custody of really was."

"Which sounds a little bogus and not something I'd expect from Luthor," Clark commented. "It certainly doesn't jive with Martin having been adopted by the Alexanders. There would be two birth certificates then. One with Julian and Margot as the parents and the one we have – the one that would have been sealed by the court at the time of adoption."

"Maybe the other one was lost," Lois suggested.

"But that's the one he'd get his passport with," Clark said. "Unless Julian and Margot knew about Luthor and Kelley and were acting as their agents."

"I think we're putting too much effort into trying to make this jive with reality," Lois pointed out. "This is all a piece of fiction. It's more like a reminder of what was put into place for him for when Lex woke up in his new body. Nobody was expected to look at it too closely."

"At least he gave you a decent educational background," Clark commented.

Lois shook her head. "He gave _himself _the background he always wanted," she reminded him. "Luthor barely made it through Met U's business program and wouldn't have gotten through at all if they'd been able to prove he'd been cheating on finals or that he'd had someone alter his grades for him."

"And how do know you that? It wasn't in any of the unauthorized biographies on him," Clark said.

"Lois Lane attended Met U, remember?" Lois said. "She took some business courses and one of her professors happened to have had Luthor as a student. Only Luthor wasn't remembered fondly. In fact, said professor claimed that the grade he'd turned in for Mister Luthor wasn't the grade that ended up on his transcript, but the discrepancy wasn't found out until the professor returned from sabbatical in China, over a year later. By then it was too late to do anything. Luthor had graduated and was well on his way to his first hundred million."

"And this didn't clue Lois into realizing Luthor wasn't everything he seemed?"

"The professor she spoke to had memory issues and kept calling her 'Madeleine'. Not exactly the most reliable of sources. And by that time Luthor was one of the richest men in the world and was giving thousands, if not millions, to Met U. in grants and scholarships," Lois explained.

"But she never asked Luthor about it," Clark said.

"Actually, she did," Lois told him. "Luthor claimed the professor had him confused with another student, and the professor also had issues with students who didn't blindly agree with his theories. She even asked about the accusations of cheating. Luthor claimed he'd been frequently mistaken for that other student who probably _was_ cheating, but it was also his observation that academics would rather accuse a student of cheating rather than admit that their teaching was both transparent and useless. And based on what Lois had seen in her classes, his explanation made sense, at least at the time. "

"And now?" Clark asked.

Lois sighed. "This certainly looks like a valid transcript for an MBA from Harvard. And since I know I didn't attend Harvard… I know he regretted not having the grades to get into an Ivy League school when he was young. But he went to a lot of trouble to give himself a Harvard degree."

"He could have bought himself an honorary degree," Clark said.

"He didn't think it was the same," Lois said. "He said anyone could buy a degree if he had enough money."

"But he bought himself one anyway," Clark noted. "Only he put your name on it."

"Yeah, now I have a business degree only I haven't got a clue about any of it," Lois complained mildly. "I don't even know what a six sigma is."

"Well, sigma refers to a statistical standard deviation and a six sigma is six standard deviations from an assumed statistical norm. The premise is that if all your manufacturing processes fall within this range, virtually none of your products should fail to meet specifications. It's an entire business project quality method developed by Honeywell in the '80s."

"We should change the name on that MBA to Alexa," Lois said.

"I just read a lot," Clark said. "And if we can get this gender thing straightened out, it'll be a moot point." He looked down at the dish of chocolate mousse and realized it was gone and Lois was licking her spoon.

"Next time I'm getting my own," he groused mildly.

He noticed Lois giving him an evaluating look. "You remember everything you read?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Is that one of the special things or just a 'Clark' thing?"

"I'm not sure," Clark admitted. He'd never really thought about it before. He had always had a phenomenal memory, could remember everything he read, everything he experienced. It served him well in school and at work, not so well in dealing with tragedy. The other downside was that with so much to process, when he was under pressure he sometimes missed pieces of knowledge that might help in an emergency – like forgetting about Resurrection when Jason Mazik wanted Lois presented to him dead.

Clark's musings were interrupted by the server handing Lois the check and Bob coming to stand by their table.

"We need to leave pretty soon if you're to get to Central Holding in time for your appointment," Bob said quietly.

"And what's the news on Nunc?" Lois asked.

Bob shrugged. "I reported the incident and the possibility he was using an alias. The rest is up to the investigating officers and the DA's office. But I doubt he'll be bothering you much after this."

"No, the Inquisitor will just assign some other scumbag to follow us," Lois complained.

"Well, they'll stop if we turn out to be really boring," Clark told her.

"We haven't managed that so far," Lois reminded him. "But there's always hope."

Clark was afraid she was right – they hadn't managed to be very boring so far and it was unlikely they'd learn any time soon. Even as Lois Lane and Clark Kent they hadn't been all that boring and the events of the past week, coupled with Lois's previous relationship with Luthor, had made them both fodder for the sleaze mill. Luthor's son was at least as interesting as Luthor's ex-fiancée.

The drive to the New Troy Detention Complex was uneventful. The NTDC was a large Romanesque granite monstrosity dating from well before the turn of the century. It covered several city blocks and resembled nothing so much as a huge decrepit mausoleum. It was nicknamed 'the Swamp' from the fact that the original buildings had been erected on a mosquito infested bog that had never been properly filled in.

Henderson was waiting for them when Lois and Clark walked into the main entrance to the complex.

"Asabi claims there's someone after him," Henderson began.

"Any idea who?" Lois asked.

Henderson shook his head. "Only that Asabi claims they have the ability to get past any security we have and we'd never know it. He's requested to be kept away from the other prisoners and demands even the guards not touch him. But he wants to see you two. In fact he was quite insistent"

"Well, we want to talk to him, too," Lois said.

Henderson led the way past the guards to an interrogation room. Asabi was waiting inside. Clark realized he'd only seen Asabi in photographs or at a distance. Then he'd given the impression of an urbane man, always been dressed in an immaculate white suit with Nehru jacket and Sikh style turban. The man sitting at the battered table didn't look so impressive or urbane. He was dressed in an orange jail jumpsuit. His hair was graying and tied in a ponytail.

Clark saw Asabi's eyes widen as they walked into the small room. The man's heart rate jumped then settled down – at least a few powers had started appearing, super-hearing among them. The powers were sporadic and the way they were coming back reminded Clark of recovering from kryptonite exposure.

"Ah, you came," Asabi said. He rose from his seat slightly and gave a tiny bow, keeping his hands flat on the table surface. He studied them for a moment then smiled. "Miss Lane and… Mister Kent?"

"You know who we are?" Lois asked.

"Your auras are unmistakable," Asabi said.

"Then you know there was a mistake," Clark said. "We're in the wrong bodies."

"Your original bodies were no longer viable. You chose to move to the nearest empty vessels to complete your mission," Asabi said blandly.

"But you put us in the wrong ones," Lois said.

"I did not," Asabi said. His heart rate didn't change at all. Either he was a consummate liar or he was telling the truth. "This was your choice."

"How?" Clark demanded. "There was no time to choose."

"The soul exists in a place outside of time, outside of space," Asabi explained. "There was time to decide, even to discuss the matter between you."

"Well, this isn't going to work so how do we change it?" Clark asked.

"Or can we?" Lois added.

Asabi stared at his hands on the table and for a moment Clark was afraid he wouldn't answer.

"I was a member of an ancient sect that had uncovered the secrets of the soul, the consciousness," Asabi finally said. "The greatest adepts could exchange their souls with others. They could live forever, moving from one vessel to another. Those less adept could do so as well, using instrumentality, a sacred stone imbued with the magic of the masters."

"And you're afraid your old masters will find you?" Henderson asked.

"My old masters know where I am," Asabi said. "They have known all along. I was seduced by Sahib Luthor's fascination with my beliefs and knowledge. I convinced myself that I could bring him and his wealth back to my masters and I would be well rewarded for my efforts on their behalf."

"Luthor said you were a Thuggee," Lois said.

"He believed what he wished to," Asabi said. "That did not make it the truth. The Thuggee were criminals, bandits, conmen, little more than common thugs."

"I thought they worshiped Kali," Henderson said.

Asabi chuckled. "That is much the same as saying that the Cosa Nostra worshiped the Virgin Mary, therefore all of her followers are criminals. Kali is the goddess of death and change and death is the mother of us all."

"Can you help us?" Clark asked. "_Will_ you help us?"

"You _chose_ these vessels," Asabi said. "Your souls are imprinted on them now. The price for changing will be high."

"Luthor left us with what was left of his assets," Lois told him. "I doubt money is a problem."

"You misunderstand me," Asabi replied with a sad smile. "The price is not money. A transfer of the sort you say you want is only temporary. Even the master of my order would be unable to simply switch you permanently."

"Why not?" Henderson asked. Clark was surprised Henderson was even buying in to what Asabi was telling them.

"If the vessel the soul is imprinted on still breathes, the spirit will try to return to it," Asabi explained. "There is no spell, no amulet, no power, capable of preventing it. To make a transfer of that nature permanent, the old vessel must be destroyed."

"He means that one of you would end up dead," Henderson said. "It also means that every time one of his masters changed out their old body for a young one, they destroyed their old body so they could keep the young one."

"That's horrible," Lois said.

Asabi shrugged. "Unless the other soul was ensnared to keep it from transmigrating, it was free to find a new vessel to inhabit."

"So, no harm no foul?" Henderson asked. He didn't seem amused by Asabi's apparently cavalier attitude.

"Every culture has its own definition of what constitutes murder," Asabi said. "In some, disposing of an unwanted girl child is simply logical and reasonable. In others, a childless woman who outlives her husband is an intolerable burden on his village. In yet others, those who rape and kill are themselves killed, yet few call that murder."

"Well in this state and city, those are all classified as unlawful death warranting the full weight of the law coming down on the perpetrator," Henderson said. "You're sure you don't want your lawyer here?"

"That charlatan can do nothing for me," Asabi said. "I have only one request. Should a stone with markings painted or carved into it be found with my body, make sure it is destroyed, crushed to dust."

"I'll make sure of it," Henderson promised.

"You think someone, probably one of your old masters, not only wants you dead, but wants to trap your soul, too," Clark realized.

Asabi sat very still. "My old masters do not care," he said softly. "My indiscretions mean little to them. No, the one who would wish my soul rendered speechless is Luthor's - his eldest child, to be precise."

"He told people that his one child was dead along with the child's mother," Lois said.

"He lied," Asabi stated. "The mother died, yes. The child survived, though terribly scarred. That was one of the reasons Luthor sought out my knowledge. He wanted his son to be perfect and hoped my talents would enable that. But like his father, Alexander wanted the easy way, the simple way, the cheater's way. He refused my teaching and refused the possibility of change because it did not fit in with his materialistic bent. It also required work and like his father, he believed that work was for lesser beings."

"And now he's after you?" Clark asked.

Asabi nodded once. "There are fools willing to risk damaging their souls by playing with the dark arts. I know that Alexander has been contact with them. I have no doubt that one of them will try to best me at my art. And like a supposedly tame predator, he has tasted fresh blood. He will not hesitate to kill again."

"Who has he killed?" Henderson asked.

"The female clone and your Officer Morris," Asabi said. He looked straight at Lois and Clark and it almost seemed as though he really could read their souls. "He will come after you."

"He can have the money," Lois said.

Asabi shook his head. "Money is the only thing he has. He will come after you to avenge himself on his father for choosing you over him."

"But Luthor's dead," Clark reminded him.

"And that is why he wishes to punish me," Asabi said. "You are alive and Luthor is not. And although it was his own fault for not examining his assumptions and for demanding the process be done his way instead of the correct way, his son blames me for his father's short-sightedness, self-delusion, and lack of prudence."


	6. Chapter 6

I apologize for this taking so long but I was attacked by vorpal code in RL.

* * *

"Do you believe him?" Lois asked as she and Clark left the jail with Henderson. Bob had caught up with them and was staying a discrete distance away.

"I believe that _he_ believes it," Henderson said.

"_Is_ someone after him?" Clark asked.

"Again, _he_ believes it," Henderson said. "But in this case, yeah, I think someone wants him dead and that someone could well be Luthor's eldest kid and if it is, he will want you dead as well."

"Luthor told the people closest to him that he had no living children. That his one child died years ago," Lois said.

"Well, Jaxon Xavier claimed _he_ was Luthor's son," Clark reminded her. "Luthor also told Lois Lane that he'd never been married before. And we know that was a lie."

"There have been rumors for years, little more than whispers really, that Luthor had a wife and son before he started making a big splash in business," Henderson told them. "The rumors also had it that she refused to give him a divorce and her death wasn't exactly an accident."

"I'm betting it wasn't just a rumor and the son wasn't supposed to be in the car when it crashed," Clark said. "And knowing how Luthor hated being reminded of his failures…"

"Luthor had the poor kid raised by nannies and tutors," Lois continued the thought.

"That 'poor kid' would be closer to my age than yours," Henderson said. "And assuming our friend inside was telling the truth… I don't doubt that Luthor Junior inherited both his father's brilliance and bloodthirstiness. Plus we have no idea what he looks like, what name he's using, or if he's even in the country."

"Our friend said that Junior was scarred," Clark reminded them.

"And reconstructive surgery can work wonders," Henderson said.

"Why can't things ever just be simple with us?" Lois asked.

"You'd die of boredom," Henderson responded with a chuckle. "God help us if that ever happened. I mean, look at yourselves."

"Do you believe that we chose to do this to ourselves, like he claimed?" Clark asked.

"Yes," Henderson replied, looking at Lois. She had the feeling, not for the first time, that Henderson was seeing more than just her exterior. "Or more precisely, _she_ made the choice – whether she took the time to think it out or not – and _he_ just followed along like always," Henderson continued. "I imagine there were times that being female drove her absolutely crazy. I know there are policewomen who chafe at the gender bias and the 'old boys club'. And I certainly wouldn't blame her for wanting to avoid that, especially considering the choices." He turned to Clark. "If you haven't experienced it yet, there is still a major bias against believing that a good looking woman can have brains. And that's despite all the research to the contrary. Plus, I just can't see Lois Lane as a buxom blonde."

"So, what do we do?" Lois asked.

"You keep doing what you always do, Lane," Henderson said. "You keep going after the bad guys in your own way with Kent here by your side. Just watch your backs." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet bag. He opened it to reveal two silver necklaces with sapphire blue pendants. "I didn't want to give you these until we were finished in there. I'd rather he and the people after him didn't know… well, certain things. These are protective amulets. Keep them against your skin and recharge them in the sun at least once a week."

"Protective amulets? Magic?" Lois asked. The whole soul transfer and gender change thing was weird but now Henderson was into magic?

"Lane, a man who could fly lived in this city for three years and was murdered three days ago. Let's just say that my job requires me to keep a very open mind and some of my investigations have led to places, and conclusions, more suited to the X-Files than Law and Order," Henderson said. "Close protection agents can only do so much. These amulets may not be able to prevent attacks like Asabi is afraid of, but they should buy you time to escape."

"So, you do believe him," Lois said. She slipped the necklace over her head and tucked the gem beneath her shirt. She noted that Clark did the same.

Henderson gave her a sardonic grin. "I just called _her_ 'Kent'," he said, nodding in Clark's direction, "and neither of you thought that was strange. You might want to consider studying up on the subject of psychic self-protection."

"So Tae Kwon Do isn't enough?"

Henderson's expression had returned to its normally serious mien. "There were powerful wards in that bunker – serious protective magic around the two canisters especially, and Lane and Superman were inside the field. We also found a stone like Asabi described with Luthor's body."

"Somebody tried to trap Luthor's soul?" Lois asked. It was a horrifying concept, but it probably couldn't have happened to a more deserving person.

"That's what it looks like," Henderson said. "Now, it could have been Asabi's doing but I have my doubts. Asabi isn't evil or psychotic. And the magic used to trap a soul is pure evil."

"Wonderful," Lois grumbled. "We've moved from garden variety corrupt politicians, embezzlers, and murderers to black magicians wanting us dead. Maybe we should have opted out on this one."

"And miss the fun?" Henderson asked. The humor was back but there was still a frighteningly serious undercurrent. "That doesn't sound like the Lane and Kent I know. But you might also want to think about what other reasons the two of you might have had for wanting to switch."

"You're sure there was a reason?" Lois insisted.

"Oh yes," Henderson assured her. "There's always a reason."

With that, Henderson walked away.

Lois watched after him. "Clark, do you think we had a reason for switching?" she asked.

"I don't know," Clark said. "It kind of feels like we probably did. And if Asabi is right, then we're stuck. Mamba's the only one with the knowledge to make long-lived clones and the Feds aren't going to let him clone Superman or Lois Lane so we'd have bodies to switch to. And then there's the problem of proving who we are. We've been lucky that Henderson and Klein and my parents are all so open-minded about the possibility that Lois and Clark aren't really dead, just involuntarily remodeled. I doubt we'd be so lucky a second time. And I really doubt Henderson would just stand by while we commit suicide to make the switch work assuming we could find a magician to help us do it. I don't think this soul transfer thing is as simple as Asabi inferred. Not if there's serious warding magic being used."

"So you think we should just maintain the status quo?"

"Remember the kick you got out of invading the Metropolis Men's Club last year?" Clark asked. It was an odd question. Of course she remembered. She remembered being furious at Perry for insisting she couldn't do it. She hadn't been pleased with Clark's reaction either, wanting her to stay on the sidelines when she was the one with the most experience in covert break-ins.

"I thought Perry was going to have a heart attack when he first realized what I'd done," Lois admitted. The Metropolis Men's Club had been exactly what the name said – a men's only club modeled after the old-school men's clubs of London. A gym, a pool, billiard room, four squash courts, four racquetball courts, a bar, a passable restaurant, and a club president involved in the virtual slavery of illegal immigrants from the Far East. Lois was the one who'd gotten into Harlan Black's office and got the goods on him.

"But I did get the evidence we needed to take Black down and get Perry's money back," Lois added.

"But, one of the things I noticed about you early on," Clark said softly. "You don't like restrictions and you worked harder than anyone at the Planet to overcome them, especially gender-based restrictions. And you've never liked being dependent on anyone else, even Superman."

"So I was a man trapped in a woman's body and didn't realize it?" Lois challenged. "I was never into women, despite what some people said about me… _her_."

"I never said you were," Clark said. "I'm just thinking out loud here. But what if you being a guy _now_ meets some need _now_. A need that didn't exist when you chose who you were going to be before. I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"I think what you're saying is that being female made Lois Lane who she was," Lois said. "But I don't need to be that person now, or maybe I need to be someone else… someone who happens to be male. And since there were only two choices down in that bunker…"

"Or being female was something _I_ needed to be for a while," Clark suggested.

"You really think so?"

"I don't know," Clark said. "But it makes as much sense as anything else. And let's face it, not much is making sense right now."

"Maybe we should get back to the hotel," Lois suggested.

"Mom… Aunt Martha and Uncle Jonathan are probably still packing up Clark's things," Clark reminded her.

"Head over there and pick up some cell phones on the way?" Lois suggested.

"Sounds like a plan."

Getting two phones took surprisingly little time. Bob calling ahead and making the arrangements for the cell phone store manager to be waiting for them didn't hurt.

Soon the Suburban was parked in front of Clark's apartment building. Lois recognized another car parked by the building as well.

"Perry's here," Clark murmured.

"Oh, great," Lois muttered. "I _so_ didn't want to deal with Perry just yet."

"We have to do it sometime," Clark reminded her.

Lois led the way to Clark's apartment. She noted that the police tape was down. With all the witnesses, including video, of Morris opening fire on Lola and Alexa, and with Morris dead, there was no real need to keep the crime scene pristine.

Lois knocked on the door. Jimmy opened it. He looked terrible – like he hadn't eaten or slept in days. He gave them a tired incurious look before moving aside for Martha.

Martha beckoned Lois and Clark inside. "Um, Perry, Jimmy, this is Alexa and Martin - I mean _Lane_ - Alexander," she announced. "Friends of Clark's. Perry White, Clark's boss and Jimmy Olsen, a friend from the Planet. They've been helping us pack Clark's things."

Lois looked around the living room. The bookshelves were empty and cardboard boxes were piled in front of them. A quick look into the bedroom with x-ray vision revealed much the same thing. Everything was packed up except the kitchen things.

Perry gave them both an evaluating look. "Alexander? You're the two the police rescued from Luthor's bunker."

"Yeah, that's us," Clark said.

"And you've been avoiding the press," Perry added.

"Not really… except for Leo Nunc. Are you looking for an interview?" Lois asked. She smiled cheekily at him. There was something perverse about Perry White asking for an interview and chiding them about avoiding it. Not that he wasn't right, of course. They _had_ been avoiding the press, and not just Nunc.

"It would be nice to have the story of what really happened down there from the only survivors," Perry said.

"Is Clark's computer packed up yet?" Lois asked.

"No," Martha said. "I've been using it to check my email. The printer's still hooked up, too."

Lois turned back to Perry. "Give us forty-five minutes to write it up."

Lois and Clark settled themselves at the kitchen table with Clark's computer and began writing. It felt good to be working, even on something as simple as detailing the events down in the bunker. Clark sat next her, as had been his habit in the newsroom.

It didn't take as long as Lois had estimated to finish. She wasn't sure if it was due to her having polished the article in her head over the past two days or if she was processing information faster than she had before. Both may have been true. There was also a smoothness and ease to their collaboration that went beyond what she was used to as well. She was making corrections almost before Clark had to say it.

With a flourish, she keyed in the print command and waited for the printer to finish its job. Perry beat her to the printer, pulling the sheets out and skimming them over before she or Clark could check them.

Perry frowned. "You witnessed Luthor kill Kent and dispose of the body?" he asked. He sounded like he didn't quite believe it.

"That's what I told the police," Lois said.

"And we all know his body will never be found," Clark added.

Perry gave them searching looks then nodded. "So, Luthor completely lost it at the end?"

Lois nodded.

"He really thought he could trade souls with someone else?"

"Apparently," Lois said. "That's what he said, at least."

"He really must have loved _Angel Heart_," Perry said. "Thinkin' all that magic voodoo hocus pocus was real."

"What makes you so sure it isn't?" Clark asked.

Perry didn't answer the question as he read through the article more slowly.

"Who taught you to write?" he asked instead.

"Is there something wrong?" Lois asked. She knew it wasn't some of their best work – no corroboration or background research and no quotes from the investigating officers. But it wasn't bad for what it was either – a straight telling of the events in the bunker from the survivors' point of view.

"Nothing wrong," Perry said. "I'm just surprised that someone outside the Planet staff would know our style so well. It reads like the byline should be Lane and Kent, not Alexander and Alexander."

"So, what would you say if we asked for jobs?" Lois asked.

"One article does not make a portfolio," Perry said.

"And given the paper's history with Luthor, you wouldn't want to hire his heir in any case," Clark said.

"I never said that," Perry protested. "It's just that you don't have a proven track record. But I certainly wouldn't turn my nose up at any freelance work you might send my way. But let's face it, assuming the lawyers don't grab it all away from you, you two don't need to work a day in your lives. You certainly don't have to work in the newspaper business."

"Maybe we want to work," Lois suggested. "Maybe this is what we need to do to make up for what Luthor did to you and the Planet."

"You can't bring my people back," Perry said. "You can't waltz in and wave a magic wand and make it all good. The Kents here have lost their only son. The Lanes have lost a daughter. Two families are burying their murdered children. You can't make up for that."

The phone rang in the other room. Lois heard Jonathan pick it up. Ellen Lane was on the line, making arrangements to meet with the Kents at their hotel. Jonathan gave her the room number at the Imperial.

Super hearing could be very convenient at times. And Lois was finding she had more control of it now than she'd had as Ultrawoman.

Jonathan came to the doorway and filled them in on his conversation with Lois's mother. "Perry, you and Jimmy are welcome to join us," Jonathan added.

Perry shook his head. "This is a family matter," he said.

Martha appeared in the doorway. "You know perfectly well that Lois and Clark both considered you and Jimmy as part of their family. I know that Lois thought of you as more than just a mentor. I think your input on what they would have wanted… Please come."

Perry expression wavered between resolute and undecided.

"Mrs. Kent is right, Mister White," Lois said. "You and Jimmy probably knew them better than anyone in Metropolis. It just makes sense for you to help plan their funeral… I assume there'll just be one?"

Martha nodded. "Lois's parents agreed with us that since the marriage license was signed and there _was_ a ceremony, Lois and Clark were married. So, one funeral, one burial."

Lois's parents were waiting in the hotel lobby with two O'Brien Agency security people when Lois, Clark, and his parents arrived. Ellen Lane looked like she was ready to blow a gasket. Sam seemed more resigned.

"This is so bad," Lois muttered under her breath. One of the agents approached Bob and appeared to be briefing him. Clark extended his hearing.

"Inspector Henderson suggested we up the security level for the Alexanders until the police have a better idea of what happened over at the Met Tower," the agent was telling Bob.

"And what happened over at the Met Tower?" Bob asked.

"A lawyer was killed and his office ransacked," the agent told him.

"You don't think it was Jennings, do you?" Lois asked Clark. She kept her voice low.

"Why else would Henderson suggest our security team up the threat level?" Clark responded equally quietly.

"Who would want Jennings dead?" Lois murmured.

"That's a very good question."

The agent was still speaking. "… They came in about half an hour ago and asked for the Kent's room number. _She_ got a little testy when the concierge told them there was no one by that name registered here. Then they tried to get out of the elevator on our floor. She didn't take being intercepted and sent back downstairs all that well, either."

"Sounds like Mom," Lois muttered to Clark before taking a deep breath. "Guys, that's Doctor and Missus Lane, Lois Lane's parents. The Kents invited them."

The agent looked unconvinced. "You're sure?"

"Yes. Add them, Perry White, and James B. Olsen to the cleared list as well," she instructed. "White and Olsen should be here shortly."

"Who are you and who are those people?" Ellen demanded when as soon as the elevator doors closed behind them. "And how dare they…"

"Ellen, it's okay," Martha interrupted. "They're friends…"

"And that gives those thugs the right to treat us like… like common criminals?" Ellen sputtered.

"We should have told them you were coming," Jonathan said in his low rumble. "They're just doing their jobs."

Ellen grumbled under her breath for a while longer, at least until the elevator doors opened onto their floor. Sam just looked too worn out to argue. Clark felt sorry for them. Sam and Ellen had started speaking civilly to one another for Lois's wedding. Now they were facing their elder daughter's funeral. Clark wanted to comfort them in some way, let them know that their daughter wasn't really dead, but he knew that neither of them would take it well – Sam would ask questions neither he nor Lois could answer and Ellen… well, Lois got her temper and her babble gene from somewhere and the most likely candidate was her mother.

Martha shooed everyone into the suite and set about making coffee.

"I can do that," Clark offered.

Martha smiled at him. "Thanks honey, but if I don't stay busy, I… even knowing that… you know… Jonathan and I, we're burying our baby. And so are Sam and Ellen."

"Is there anything I can do?" Clark asked.

"You can order dinner. But no pizza. The doc wants Jonathan to cut down on the cheese and red meat… again."

"That must be going over well," Clark commented.

Martha managed a chuckle. "He hates it."

"How about Chinese?" Clark suggested. "I know this great place in…" He let his voice trail off as he realized what he was about to say.

"Where?" Martha prompted.

"Shanghai," Clark answered softly. "There's this great little mom and pop restaurant and they have the best…"

Martha managed a chuckle. "How about someplace a little closer?" she suggested.

Clark returned the chuckle. "I know a place," he said, grabbing the phone. He called one of the local restaurants he and Lois frequented – _used_ to frequent, he reminded himself – and placed an order for eight dinners for delivery.

Clark's parents, Lois's parents, Perry, and Jimmy already had the outline for the service finished by the time dinner was delivered. Lois and Clark simply kept the coffee going while the others worked. More than once the little group threatened to break down into tears, especially when one of them started to reminisce.

It was all Clark could do to keep from bursting out with the news that Lois and Clark weren't really dead – just _changed_.

"I don't think we're helping," Lois murmured after the dinner dishes were taken care of. "I keep wanting to tell them, but I know it'll only make things worse."

"Same here," Clark admitted. He sighed. "I haven't had a chance to unpack the suitcase Luthor 'arranged' for Lois."

"No time like the present," Lois said, keeping her voice low. They excused themselves to go hide out in their bedroom.

"Henderson considered Luthor's choice of clothes for Lois to be another sign of his derangement," Lois told Clark as he opened the case. The case was filled with lace and satin and see-through fabric. Clark held up one – or was it two – of the pieces of lace. He wasn't even sure what it was supposed to be.

"Um, do I want to know what this is?" Clark asked. Lois was trying to stifle a chuckle.

"Fredrick's of Hollywood calls it a 'teddy'," Lois said. "It's worn to be taken out of."

"Did you ever…?"

"Have I ever worn one of those?" Lois asked. Clark nodded. He was sure he was blushing.

"Well, Dupre the depraved certainly wanted to see me in one of those," Lois said with a grin. "But I never gave him the chance. Lex tried to get me into a slinky number but... well, Wanda may have been rough around the edges but she wasn't as much of a slut as he'd hoped."

"I never thought she was," Clark told her.

Lois shrugged. "Lex believed what he wanted to believe. He believed that no woman was able to resist him and that he could convince Lois to forget everything she ever cared about to run off with him in some sick love-crazed haze."

"He didn't know her at all," Clark said. He started sifting through the rest of the lingerie in the suitcase. There were two zippered leather cases tucked beneath the lace and satin. Clark opened one – cosmetics, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant. The toothpaste tube felt oddly heavy. He twisted the plastic top off to inspect the contents. The paste was an odd shade of green and the tiny dab he squeezed out felt gritty between his fingers.

"I think this was how he planned to control you," Clark said, showing Lois the tube.

"Kryptonite?"

"I think the tube is lead and plastic instead of just plastic. I'm not feeling any effects aside from a slight tingling, but low grade exposure over the long term might keep powers from developing, and keep his victim vulnerable to the drugs he was using," Clark said.

"We should have Klein check it out when he has a moment," Lois said. "I'm also sure that isn't the only trick Luthor had for keeping control of the situation. I just wish I had some clue about what else he had planned."

"He gave no hints at all?" Clark asked.

Lois shook her head. "I was so out of it that he might have told me outright and I probably wouldn't have picked up on it, but he was playing everything really close to the vest. And after what happened at STAR Labs, I don't think he trusted me to go along with everything he had in mind."

"There were no drugs in the luggage," Clark said. "If the police had found any someone would have mentioned it, which means that Luthor either had a cache somewhere or a trusted supplier."

"Maybe Scardino's found out something," Lois said.

"He's not going to share anything with us," Clark reminded her. "We're lucky Henderson's willing to give us the time of day."

Clark opened the second case and promptly closed it again, hoping he wasn't blushing too badly. He felt like his face was on fire.

"Sex toys?" Lois asked. Clark nodded.

"Maybe he wasn't as sure of his ability to please Lois as he made out," Clark suggested bleakly.

"Or maybe it was another of his control things," Lois said. "Plus some people just get off by watching. I'm sure he had plans for his 'toys'." Disgust colored her voice. Obviously she didn't think very highly of Luthor's choice of 'toys' either.

In the next room Perry was arguing for his selection of music – Elvis Presley's renditions of _Amazing Grace_ and _Memories_. The Kents had no particular objection but Ellen Lane was pushing for more traditional music. She had even objected to Martha's suggestion of Dylan Thomas' _Death Is Not the End_ as being not traditional enough. Jonathan, Sam, and Jimmy seemed to have enough sense to stay out of it.

"Poor Perry," Lois commented. "I wonder how many of his Elvis stories are true?"

Clark managed a chuckle. "Considering how many of them he has…"

Now Ellen was digging in her heels and refusing to consider anything Perry, or anyone else, suggested.

Lois shook her head. "She couldn't micro-manage her daughter's wedding, so now she'll do it to her funeral."

"It'll work out," Clark assured her. "After all, funerals are for the living. The dead, the really dead, are beyond caring."

Lois grabbed the remote to the television and turned it on. GNN – Galaxy Communications had bought LNN for pennies on the dollar after Luthor's dive from his penthouse over a year ago – was running video of a burned out auto in Racine. A man named Douglas Sanborn had been murdered by someone using a grenade launcher. It wasn't exactly your typical drive-by murder.

"You know, if it weren't for Luthor, that would probably be our story," Clark said, studying the pictures on the screen.

"You don't think we'd still be on our honeymoon?" Lois asked.

"We would have been back yesterday, chafing to get back to work," Clark said. "That is assuming we hadn't gotten ourselves involved in something bizarre beyond belief while we were supposed to be enjoying ourselves."

"We do do that, don't we?" Lois agreed with a grin.

Clark turned his attention back to the story on the screen. "A rocket propelled grenade is a little bit of overkill, don't you think?"

"Not your garden variety assassination, that's for sure. Organized crime?"

"I don't recall Sanborn's name coming up as being involved with Luthor or Intergang," Clark said. "But it's possible there's a new player in town."

"I hadn't realized exactly how much I'm going to miss chasing after the story," Lois said. "I want to run over to the Planet and start researching and talking to the cops assigned to the case…"

"You want to go check out the crime scene?" Clark asked, realizing that was what _he_ wanted to do.

"Well, Perry did say he'd be interested in any freelance work we gave him."

"Bob is not going to be happy with us," Clark pointed out. "We're supposed to be safely tucked in and out of harm's way. I mean, that is what we're paying him for."

To answer, Lois levitated above the bed by six inches. "Control's still a little iffy, but if I'm careful I should be okay."

She gave him an expectant look. He tested his own powers. Hearing and vision were almost there. Strength was harder to test without breaking something and so was speed. Flight wasn't there yet but that was usually the first to go and the last to recover.

If Lois was disappointed they weren't going to be able to just fly to the crime scene she hid it relatively well. "I wonder if Bob would mind a late night outing to Racine?"

It wasn't Bob but Gary who was accompanying them to Racine. Like Bob, Gary was a retired police officer. Unlike Bob, Gary was a wiry black man with graying hair and a limp who simply chuckled when told where they were going.

"We figured you kids wouldn't want to stay put for long," he explained once they were on their way. "The other guys thought you might want to go clubbing but you don't strike me as that type."

"And what type do you think we are?" Clark asked.

Gary gave him an appraising look and Clark had the feeling that Gary, like Bill Henderson, saw a lot more than he normally let on.

"The type that doesn't want to sit home and hope somebody else will pick up the slack. The type that wants to see what the world is really like and doesn't want to be spoon fed what they're supposed to do or think," Gary said finally.

Gary instructed the driver to park a block away from the crime scene then pulled out three heavy-duty flashlights.

"McCloskey pulled the case," Gary told them as approached the area. "He's thorough. He wouldn't have missed much. Figure the shooter was over by that tree."

Clark pointed his flashlight at the base of the tree. The ground was trampled and even with 'special' vision he couldn't make out much aside from some odd seed pods that had been ground into the dirt.

"Find something?" Lois asked.

"Maybe," Clark said, picking up one of the pods to look at it more closely. "Just maybe."


	7. Chapter 7

Lois and Clark were up and out of the hotel almost before the Kents were up. Lois had no idea when the Lanes left the night before – everyone was gone or in bed by the time she and Clark got back to the hotel. And although she wanted to reassure Martha that whatever they decided about the funeral was okay with her, Gary had heard about another bizarre murder from one of his sources in the MPD.

Martha Kent didn't need Lois's input on her son's funeral. And sticking around a hotel suite waiting for something to happen wasn't Lois Lane's style – or Lane Alexander's.

A few uniformed cops were keeping the onlookers out of the alley while Detective McCloskey studied the crime scene. Chalk marked the ground, outlining where the body fell. There were blood splatters on the ground and the alley walls.

Gary went over to McCloskey, gesturing to Lois and Clark waiting outside the yellow police tape. After a few moments McCloskey nodded and beckoned Lois and Clark to come closer, into the alley.

"Great way to start your morning," McCloskey said. "Gary tells me you're wannabe crime reporters."

"Well, we had some friends who made it look like something we'd like to do," Clark said. "What can you give us?"

With a glance to Gary, McCloskey flipped open his notebook. "Victim's name was Roger Stephens. He left Casey's Pub around eleven and when he walked by the alley he was hit with eighteen rounds from a Glock Automatic."

"Any leads?" Lois asked.

McCloskey shook his head. "The weapon was left behind, just like with Sanborn. No prints, serial number filed off the piece."

"Could it be the same shooter?" Clark asked.

"Could be," McCloskey said. "We're checking our hot list for military vets. This guy knows his way around hardware."

McCloskey spotted something and moved off, leaving Lois and Clark with Gary. Lois watched as Clark scanned the area. Then she spotted it as well – seed pods like those he found at the other crime scene.

"Detective," Clark called. "We could have something here."

McCloskey hurried back. "Yeah, we noticed those," he told them. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything about it."

"Of course," Lois agreed – gaining McCloskey's trust was more important than getting a scoop right now. The Alexanders had no history, good or bad, with the MPD and they would need contacts like McCloskey if they wanted to do any reporting in Metropolis.

Gary ushered them back to the car. Scardino was waiting for them.

"You were checking out the Sanborn murder scene last night," he said quietly.

"It's not a crime," Lois reminded him. "The crime scene unit was finished doing their thing, and there were no cops shooing us away."

Scardino didn't seem to hear her, focusing on Clark instead. "Interesting similarities, between this murder and the other one," Scardino said. "Weapon left at the scene, no fingerprints, no apparent motive."

"And why are you telling us this?" Lois asked. It wasn't that she didn't trust Scardino's motives but… she didn't trust Scardino's motives. Again she wondered what she had seen in him before.

"Henderson tells me you two have hidden talents," Scardino said. "Talents that might be helpful in my investigation."

"We're not cops," Clark told him. "And I'm pretty sure there are rules against recruiting civilians into your line of work."

"Sometimes there isn't much choice." Scardino beckoned them away from the car. "We've traced the drugs Luthor used on Lois Lane to a Doctor Maxwell Deter at the Metropolis Neuroscience Center."

"And?" Lois prompted.

"And… that's were those seed pods are from," Scardino said. "I need… _we_ need… someone to go undercover over there. And with your histories… I figure Deter and Mendenhall won't be able to resist getting their hands on Luthor's daughter-in-law."

Clark nearly choked.

"And why Luthor's daughter-in-law?" Lois asked.

"Deter has a reputation of being a lady's man among other things," Scardino said, looking at Clark. "And there is a rumor you have memory issues – not remembering how the two of you got into those canisters, how you even got to Metropolis."

"And why can't you have one of your own people go undercover there?" Clark asked.

Scardino sighed. "Because we're running out of time, and you're our best bet to stop the next assassination being planned by whoever is in charge over there. Besides, we have reason to believe they know most of my people. They won't suspect civilians with a good story."

To Lois's horror, Clark nodded. She could sense that he wanted to get more involved in Scardino's investigation. His reporters' instincts, and his need to help… it was all so _Clark_.

The government man spent the next hour briefing them but Lois wasn't sure it was because Scardino thought they needed such an in depth briefing, or if he wanted more of a chance to ogle Alexa's front.

Finally, Lois had Clark alone. "Are you out of your mind?" she asked.

"If it was before, if our positions were reverse, wouldn't you do it?" he asked.

"Yes, but…"

"But what? You don't think I can handle this?"

"Of course you can handle it," Lois had to admit. "I just don't like the way Scardino… I don't like the way he looks at you. And I don't think we're his only choice for this mission. He has an ulterior motive."

"Of course he has an ulterior motive," Clark said. "No surprise there."

"I just don't like it," Lois stated.

"It'll be okay," Clark promised, cupping her cheek in his hand. His hand seemed so small now. _He_ seemed so small and fragile. Was that how she had seemed to him? Small and fragile, like a piece of delicate china or a tropical flower? Not that she had ever resembled a piece of china or a hot house flower. Lois Lane had _never_ been a delicate thing that needed protection from the elements. But there were times she had thought that Clark thought that about her.

And now she found herself thinking it about _him_. She wasn't sure if it was a hormone thing or not but when Scardino started looking at Clark it had been all she could do to keep from tearing out Scardino's throat, or burning him to a cinder.

"It'll be okay," Clark repeated. "A couple days, maybe even not that long. At least it'll give us an excuse to miss our own funeral."

"It'll give you an excuse, not me," Lois retorted.

-o-o-o-

The Metropolis Neuroscience Center was situated in one of the more prosperous suburbs of the city and resembled an older resort hotel more than a hospital. White uniformed orderlies and patients in robes walking the grounds were some of the clues that it wasn't a genteely aging resort hotel overlooking a river. Another clue was the ubiquitous surveillance cameras.

Lois wondered if the surveillance was to keep patients in or potential thieves out, or if there was something else entirely going on – Scardino was convinced the Center was involved in nefarious things. The high levels of surveillance on the grounds could be evidence of justifiable paranoia on the part of the Center staff.

Or of extreme caution concerning their more fragile patients.

Deter seemed affable and friendly, but as with Scardino, Lois found herself suspicious of his motives and had to fight to stay friendly with him as Clark – _Alexa _– was checked in as a patient. They had decided on the story that Alexa had experienced memory loss following her captivity in Luthor's lair and that loss hadn't cleared up.

If their story'd had any basis in fact, this was exactly where Lane Alexander would bring his wife for help.

"... and I've heard this is one of the best facilities in the country for treating memory loss," Lois said.

Deter smiled. "We've had a lot of success, but you have to understand it's not an exact science. Mrs. Alexander's memory could pop back in tomorrow, or it could be lost forever."

"But there's a good chance that Alexa will fully recover, isn't there?" Lois asked, trying to sound like an anxious husband. It wasn't as hard to get into the role as she had feared.

"I'm hopeful, but there are no guarantees," Deter said.

"Doctor, I'm counting on you. This is my wife, the woman I love," Lois managed to say.

"I know, and it's important that you don't tell her that," Deter said solemnly.

Lois stared at him.

"Revelations that are deeply emotional have unpredictable consequences. The shock could be too much for her to deal with," Deter went on.

Lois was having a hard time accepting what Deter was saying. When Clark had amnesia before, the MPD's Doctor McCorkle had advised that Clark be surrounded by familiar things, do familiar things. McCorkle had said nothing about Clark needing to be lied to about his personal relationships.

Clark stepped out of the clinic office and Deter plastered a smile on his face.

"All checked in," Clark said. "Have I mentioned how much I hate hospitals?"

Lois suppressed a chuckle. "Uh, honey... this is Dr. Deter."

Clark shrugged. "Sorry, I didn't mean anything…"

Deter's smile grew even wider. "That's all right. We're happy that you're here. Mr. Alexander's told me all about you."

"Some of it good, I hope," Clark said with a chuckle. "But then, you probably know more about me than I do."

"We're going to work very hard to change all that," Deter said. Lois wanted to deck him.

"Dr. Deter was just showing me around the Center," she said instead. "I think you'll like it here."

Clark didn't look convinced.

"We want you to consider this your home, but there are a few rules," Deter said smoothly – too smoothly for Lois's taste. "Mr. Alexander will be permitted to visit every other day, but there will be no other visitors for the next two weeks. Also, you're not allowed to leave the grounds for the first month.

"Sounds a little severe," Clark commented. "Granted, I don't remember knowing anybody here, but still…"

"It's very important to control your exposure to outside stimuli," Deter explained. There was a condescending note in his tone that Lois didn't like and she knew that Clark didn't like it either, although nothing showed in his expression.

A male nurse was pushing a patient in a wheelchair toward the one of the exits. An old woman with a stricken expression was walking beside them, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Lois noted that the woman had a facial tic.

"My God, it's Henry," Deter murmured. "Agnes, what happened?"

"He just had a stroke," Agnes said. "At breakfast he was fine and then…"

Lois watched as Clark crouched down in front of the man in the wheelchair. Henry didn't seem to notice him, staring off into space, his lips moving but making no words, no sounds.

After a moment Clark stood up and moved out of the way so the nurse could wheel his patient out of the building.

"I'm so sorry," Clark said.

"Agnes, this is Alexa Parker. She's a new patient," Deter said, ignoring Lois.

"Welcome to the Center. I'm Agnes Moskowitz," the old woman said, her worry over Henry at least temporarily forgotten.

"Agnes is a patient of Dr. Mendenhall," Deter continued.

"The man's a life saver," Agnes stated. "Five months ago I was twitching so badly I could barely get out a full sentence. Now look at me. I'm almost cured."

"Agnes, maybe you and I could have breakfast together tomorrow and then you could show me around..." Clark said with a smile. "Give me the 'inside tips' on this place."

Agnes returned the smile. "I'd be happy to, dear."

"You have quite a way with people," Deter commented once Agnes was gone.

"She seems like a nice lady, reminds me of…" Clark's voice trailed off in seeming confusion.

"Don't worry about it," Deter assured her smoothly. "I want to start your therapy as soon as possible. And I'm sure it will all come back to you in time."

Again, alarms went off in the back of Lois's mind but she wasn't sure it was jealousy or something else. Deter had introduced 'Alexa' by her supposed maiden name, even though all her identification, even how she was signed into the clinic, was as Alexa Alexander – a married woman.

Gary clucked his tongue disapprovingly at Lois as she climbed into the Suburban.

"What?" she demanded.

Gary sighed. "It's not my place to say anything."

"No, but you're thinking it real loud," Lois pointed out. "So out with it."

"You're not in law enforcement, you're not trained for this sort of thing," Gary said. "It could get ugly really fast."

Lois wanted to tell him that this wasn't the first time she and Clark had gone undercover for a story. But those people were dead now. And Gary was right. It _could_ get ugly fast.

And Lois wasn't sure how many of Alexa's powers had kicked in. For herself, Lois figured she was probably near Superman's levels, although she hadn't had a chance to test her flight abilities. One of the downsides of having a protection service – they were always close and just disappearing on them didn't seem to be a good option. It was essential that the 'Alexanders' appear to be newly wealthy couple just out of college. They needed to seem like average kids.

"Scardino seems to think she can handle it," Lois said.

Gary snorted. "Scardino's setting her out as a tethered goat. He wins no matter what."

"You know him?"

"Not him specifically," Gary admitted. "But his kind. Run roughshod over the local cops because he's got a federal badge instead of a local one. Swoops in for the credit when it was the locals that did the work, took the risks."

Lois wanted to protest that Scardino wasn't like that, but the protest died in her throat. She could see Scardino doing exactly that. Again she wondered what Lois Lane had seen in him.

"Alexa can handle herself," Lois said. _I hope_.

* * *

Alexa's room was pleasant and more befitting a reasonably priced hotel than a hospital although Clark knew there were more standard looking hospital rooms in the opposite wing of the building – he'd looked. His powers were nearly all in place, although he hadn't checked flight. Having bodyguards around made testing that a little difficult.

He took a calming breath. He hadn't been able to say anything to Lois about what he'd seen when he looked Henry over and his room didn't have a phone that connected to the outside world. Clark knew what a stroke normally looked like with his special vision – they were asymmetrical. He'd seen enough traumatic brain injuries to know what they looked like on the inside as well.

Henry's 'stroke' wasn't natural. It was bilaterally symmetrical, with the damage radiating out from the two red marks Clark had spotted near the old man's temples, hidden in his hair. The damage was extensive and while Clark wasn't a doctor, his experience as Superman told him that Henry's brain injury was unsurvivable. It also told him that Henry, even though he was still breathing, had been murdered.

Unfortunately, unless Henry had suspicious relatives, or there were suspicious doctors and nurses at the hospital he was being sent to, there would be no autopsy to confirm that the brain damage wasn't natural. Henry was an old man who'd had a fatal stroke while under a doctor's care. End of story.

Clark opened the window to look out over the grounds. The window opening was barred by a steel mesh screen – not that it would stop him if he really wanted to leave. The cameras he'd spotted earlier covered the entire grounds as far as he could tell – except for one notable exception. Hidden in the perimeter hedge was an iron gate with a key-pad lock. The hedge bore the same seedpods that he and the CSU had found at both crime scenes.

Scardino had been right about that. There was little doubt that someone at the Center was involved in both murders and very likely that someone had left the grounds via the hidden gate.

Clark checked the room. Unsurprisingly, there were surveillance cameras hidden in the room as well as listening devices. He would have to be careful not to use his powers in any noticeable way or float in his sleep.

But he did have his powers and there was nothing to stop him from using them covertly. He lay down on the bed and extended his hearing – any observers would assume he was taking a nap.

"_It looks like Mrs. Alexander had quite an exciting few days before joining us here. Newly married to Luthor's son, witness to at least four murders, locked in an air-tight container, drugged, shot, suddenly wealthy beyond her wildest dreams_," a man was saying somewhere in the building.

"_She's not our run of the mill patient_," a second man said. It sounded like Deter.

"_She appears to be a good candidate for my research program_," the first man said.

"_I thought all of your research dealt with behavior modification_," Deter said. "_How would that apply to Alexa?_"

"_I'm broadening my study to include behavior reconstruction, which should compliment your treatments in memory recovery_," the first man said.

Clark realized the first man was probably Mendenhall, the clinic's founder. Considering that Alexa had come to the clinic presenting nearly textbook symptoms of traumatic memory repression, why would Mendenhall be suggesting _behavior_ modification for her?

Mendenhall and Deter spoke for a few more minutes, clinic business mostly. Oddly, neither referred to Henry's sudden illness. Surely the man's death deserved some comment, some suggestion that the other patients might be traumatized by the event. Or did they honestly believe no one cared beyond Agnes?

Clark had no answers, but the questions were bothersome in themselves.

Clark got up and started the martial arts routine he'd learned from Lin Chow and her grandfather. This body was more limber than his old one, and he was still getting used to the changes in center of balance and reach. Mindfulness was one of the things that Grandfather Chow had emphasized while teaching Superman how to use the power of _chi_.

Mindfulness was what he needed right now. He breathed in and out slowly, working each muscle individually and together.

Mindfulness and control. The Kryptonian genes gave him more control over his body than the human norm, although fully human yoga masters came close to the control he had naturally.

He was almost finished with the routine when there was a knock on the door.

Deter.

-o-o-o-

Clark had to admit the grounds really were nice in a manicured country-club sort of way. But he was still a farmboy at heart. He would have liked to have seen a vegetable garden somewhere for the patients to tend to. His mom had a saying : 'Nothing beats digging in dirt to salve the soul.' It looked like Deter and Mendenhall didn't agree, or maybe they thought that giving a psychiatric patient a shovel or hoe would be giving them ideas.

"You're very lucky that Dr. Mendenhall is going to assist in your treatment," Deter was saying with almost unnatural cheerfulness. "He's working on a new program that should help to speed up your recovery."

"I'll take all the help I can get," Clark said, noting the technician working on one of the security cameras attached to the high wrought iron fence. "Why the fence and all the security cameras?"

"They keep unwanted visitors out and roaming patients in," Deter explained.

"You have a lot of those? Unwanted visitors?" Clark asked.

"This is a hospital," Deter said. "We have controlled substances, experimental drugs, things that addicts might want to get their hands on."

Clark inspected the fence. It was tall, but hardly a deterrent to a determined intruder.

"You made Agnes's day, inviting her to breakfast like that," Deter commented.

"It seemed like the right thing to do."

"You do have quite a way with people."

Clark feigned confusion. "Do I? It's so frustrating to discover fragments about yourself but have no idea what the big picture looks like."

"That's exactly why you're here," Deter said, reaching out to put his fingers against Alexa's temples. Clark fought to stay in place, reminding himself that Deter saw him as a young blonde woman.

"I'm going to get inside your head and find the seed of your memory. Then together we will water it, nurture it, and make it grow," Deter continued.

"And what if you can't find the seed," Clark asked, trying to keep his voice calm and his body relaxed. It took all his self-control to keep from kneeing Deter where he wouldn't recover and then heading for… well anywhere but where this medical Lothario was.

Deter seemed oblivious. "You're going to help me. As I probe, you'll be there to guide me, which will require total trust and honesty on your part. Can you handle that?"

"To be honest with you," Clark admitted slowly, "I have no idea."

"Then you and I will find out together."

Clark forced himself to smile. "I guess we will."

-o-o-o-

Dinner at the Center was oddly uneventful considering there had been a death earlier in the day. Clark had no doubt that Henry was dead. The brain damage was too severe. Clark half expected Deter to join him, but apparently that sort of fraternization was frowned on. Clark smiled at Agnes, gesturing for the old woman to join her at her table, but Agnes just seemed confused – almost as though she didn't remember being introduced to Alexa.

Clark ate alone. The food was better than he'd expected, but it was still institutional food.

Clark listened in on Deter and one of the nurses. It was an invasion of privacy, but at the moment Clark didn't really care.

"I saw you this afternoon with your new patient. She's quite attractive," the nurse said.

"I suppose she is," Deter said. His voice sounded disinterested but his heart rate was up – almost as though he was feeling guilty about something.

"Careful, doctor," the nurse warned.

Then Clark picked up another, more familiar heartbeat.

Lois.

"How was Alexa's first day?" she asked.

"Productive. We're peeling away the damaged layers and getting to the core of her being," Deter stated.

Lois chuckled. It was still odd to hear Lois's words coming from a man's body. But then Clark was still getting used to hearing his own voice in feminine registers.

"The core of her being," Lois repeated. "Maybe when you discover what that is, you could let me know. It might come in handy when we have our first big fight."

"When you see her, remember that it's critical you don't mention your relationship," Deter warned. "It would be best if you kept this visit short."

"Got it. Five minutes on the weather and I'm out of here," Lois stated. Clark could hear the irritation in her voice.

"Sorry," Deter said, not sounding at all contrite. "I have a tendency to get a little over protective of my patients."

"And I tend to get a little over protective of my wife."

Clark hurried out of the dining area. Lois and Deter were glaring at one another. Clark noted the bright bouquet of yellow and blue flowers in Lois's hand.

"These are beautiful," Clark stated, taking the flowers.

"Forget-me-nots," Lois said. "Your… a friend suggested them. How are you doing?"

"Okay," Clark said, turning his back on Deter and leading Lois out of the building. He could feel Deter's eyes boring into his back.

When they were well away from any listening devices, Clark stopped. "Anything more on the murders?"

"Two very professional-looking hits," Lois said. "If the cops know anything more they aren't saying anything aside from there being a strong possibility of it being the same killer."

One of the nurses was crossing the yard – crossing close enough to listen in if they wanted. "So, how are you liking the Center? I hear they show first run movies in the rec hall," Lois said, abruptly changing the subject.

"It wouldn't matter if they were classics; they'd still be first run to me." Clark watched until the nurse was out of hearing range. "Henry's death wasn't natural, you know," he added, dropping his voice to a near whisper.

"I know," Lois said. "Scardino thinks it's a fluke but he's promised to look into it." Lois paused, studying Clark's face. "How is it here, really?"

"I've seen heavier security in super-max prisons, but not by much," Clark said after a moment. "Deter claims it's because they have controlled substances and other things. And they don't want patients wandering off, but it's still a little extreme. And I would have expected some sort of discussion, even just something said at dinner, concerning Henry. And then Agnes… it was like she didn't remember me."

"Well, this place does specialize in memory problems," Lois reminded him.

"But Agnes is Mendenhall's patient," Clark said. "His specialty is behavior modification, tics, bad habits, phobias, things like that. Not memory, at least not normally."

Lois raised one eyebrow in question.

"Mendenhall wants to take me on as a patient," Clark continued. "And Deter seems to think that's a great idea."

"That makes no sense," Lois said.

"Tell me about it. Plus there's the thing of Deter using my maiden name while introducing me around."

"I did notice that. Any idea what his game is?"

Clark shook his head. "Only that his interest seems a little… excessive… for a normal doctor patient relationship. I think he thinks I don't remember you, or the fact that we're married."

"Can you handle it?"

Clark nodded, hoping he wasn't lying. Then he looked up and saw Deter watching them, his expression unreadable. Clark felt a shiver run up his spine.

-o-o-o-

The next morning was clear and bright. The perfect day for an outside ceremony. Clark went looking for a copy of the Daily Planet to read, but every copy seemed to have disappeared. Coincidence or one of Deter's methods to 'control' Alexa's environment?

Frustrated, Clark grabbed a cup of coffee and went to sit outside. He wanted to be alone to listen to what was happening around him but that was not to be – Deter found him and sat beside him on the stone bench.

"How are you adjusting to life at the Center?" he asked.

"It's okay," Clark said. "But I'd really like to find a newspaper. Even if I can't remember my past, at least I can be up on current events."

"I'm afraid the newspaper might be too stressful for you," Deter said. He paused before continuing. "You seemed very intense during Mister Alexander's visit last night. Did he upset you?"

"No," Clark said. "He was just a little concerned at Doctor Mendenhall's interest in me. After all, I have a memory problem, not a tic or an addiction – at least as far as I know."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea for him to visit you again, at least not for a while."

"Because you think he upset me?"

"You need calm and quiet," Deter said. "No upsets that would keep you from grasping those tenuous tendrils of memory."

"Well, you _are_ the doctor," Clark said, trying to allay any possible suspicions.

"Can I treat you to breakfast?"

"I guess so. But I'd also like to have today's paper."

Deter smiled paternally at Alexa. At least Clark assumed he meant it to be a paternal smile. It looked more predatory than that. More like the big bad wolf grinning at Red Riding Hood.

"Let's talk about the paper after breakfast," Deter said.


End file.
